Chess
by Lucy Hale
Summary: The course of true hate never did run smooth. Draco/Ron. Now in chapters for easier reading.
1. Default Chapter

Chess

Author's Note: This is my first foray into this fandom, so be warned. Fanon stereotypes about characters are rampant, and I'm taking liberties with the second year canon. I'm a bad person. 

Oh, and one of the characters talks with a dialect. You'd think I'd know better by now, but I don't. Eh. 

  
****

  
Harry set his books down and thumped into his chair with a sigh.

He hated Potions. Hated it more than anything else at Hogwarts.

Not only was it taught by Professor Snape -- who utterly loathed Harry even more than Harry utterly loathed him -- but it was, and had been last year as well, a double course with Slytherin House.

As if reading his mind, Draco Malfoy was staring at him at that very moment, his light-colored eyes narrowed, his thin lips curved into his usual smirk. 

Harry ignored him, of course. Trouble between him and Draco in Potions always led Snape to take points away from Gryffindor and stick Harry and his friends in detention.

And speaking of his friends…

Ron was already sitting there, already glaring right back at Malfoy. "I tell you. If we get stuck in Snape's class with Slytherin every single year…I don't think I'll make it without putting a fist in Malfoy's face."

Harry smiled. "Just relax. I think you'd make Snape too happy doing something like that."

Ron hummed in agreement. "Probably give me detention every day for the rest of my life."

On Harry's other side Hermione sat down. She looked disapproving. As usual. "Even talking about it likely to get points taken away from us. You two will never learn. Just ignore him."

"Ignore Malfoy?" Ron sighed dreamily. "I long for the day."

"Well, it's your own fault if you can't. I don't have any trouble ignoring them."

Ron rolled his eyes and glanced at Harry.

Harry grinned and shrugged. 

A throat cleared in front of the class. 

They all faced ahead, and Harry automatically started to dread.

Snape spoke in a soft and low, silky voice that worked up every goose bump on Harry's body. "Good day, class."

There were a few replies, all from Slytherin students. 

Harry glanced at Ron.

Ron crossed his eyes and grinned.

Harry held back a smile. 

"I take it you all did your reading. I assume, rather hopefully probably, that if any of you were to drink the contents of this bottle…" He held up a glass bottle full of a swirling gray potion that looked like fog. "You would know what to do to avoid being turned into the liquid forms of yourselves."

Harry sat low in his chair and tried to look as small as possible. He had no doubt that Snape would call someone up to test their knowledge. He could only hope that it wouldn't be him.

Probably would be, though. Snape really, really didn't like him.

Snape's cold eyes drifted over the class.

In his seat, Malfoy and his two brainless bodyguard friends, Crabbe and Goyle, were practically rubbing their hands together in anticipation of the fun.

But Snape surprised them all. "Mister Malfoy."

All eyes went to Draco.

He sat up, his smile gone. "Yes, Professor?"

"Come up here."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. He stood slowly.

Ron snickered at the expression on his face. "Looks like he swallowed one of Hagrid's rock cakes."

Harry grinned.

Unfortunately, Snape wasn't done. Drawn by Ron's laughter, his cold eyes hit the red-head. "Weasley. How nice of you to volunteer."

Ron grimaced instantly.

"Come here."

He shot a helpless look at Harry and stood.

"Now. In the spirit of cooperation between houses, which apparently Dumbledore feels we need to work on, I'm going to do things a little different."

Harry frowned.

Snape clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Mr. Malfoy has always been a top student in this class."

Draco cast haughty eyes over the rest of them, his smile returning.

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione smacked his arm.

Snape continued without noticing. "We'll see how well he's done memorizing this particular antidote. Mr. Weasley."

Ron's eyes went round.

Snape handed him the bottle of foggy liquid. "Bottoms up."

Ron took the glass and stared at it, his face white.

Snape turned to Draco. "You're job is to stop him before he is entirely a puddle."

Ron turned helpless eyes to his classmates.

Harry glared up at Snape and Draco, seeing the growing smile on Draco's face.

Draco himself turned to Crabbe and Goyle and mouthed something that made the two brainless apes laugh quietly.

Hermione gripped Harry's arm. "He isn't honestly going to…"

But he was. Harry had no doubt. Snape's only happiness in the world came from tormenting the three of them. Well, them and Neville Longbottom.

Snape turned away from both of them, going to his desk. "Get to it."

Ron looked at Harry, his eyes begging for help.

Harry raised a hand and spoke. "Professor Snape…are you really sure--"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter."

"For what?" Hermione spoke out, outraged, before she could stop herself.

Snape smiled coldly. "Drawing my attention during a potentially dangerous lesson. Are you trying to get your classmate killed, Potter?"

Harry clamped his mouth shut angrily and sat there. 

Ron swallowed and looked down at the bottle. 

Snape sat back and watched, looking as close to pleased as Harry had ever seen him. 

Malfoy spoke after a pause. "Well? Hurry up, Weasley. Don't worry, I think I remember most of the antidote." He smirked.

Ron's brow creased in anger and his eyes went darkly to Draco. 

"Don't be stupid, Ron." Hermione spoke quietly at Harry's side. "Don't make it worse."

Ron didn't move, though. His eyes darted over the room again aimlessly. Apparently he was hoping to stall until the entire hour passed. But Snape wasn't about to allow that. 

"Mr. Weasley."

Ron swallowed and looked at Snape. 

"If you find your part of this demonstration too difficult, I can find someone else." Snape's eyes drifted to Harry.

Ron's mouth worked for a moment, but he followed Snape's gaze to Harry.

Harry stood up, glaring up at Snape. "Fine. You want me up there, I'll--"

Ron pulled the stopper on the bottle and shut his eyes tight as he swallowed every ounce of the gray swirling potion. 

Harry stopped in his tracks. The class fell dead silent, all eyes on Ron. 

Ron's eyes pried themselves open one at a time, and he licked his lips and looked at the empty bottle. "Wasn't too bad," he said, obviously relieved.

And then the bottle fell from his fingers and he doubled over, crying out. 

Harry started forward again instantly.

"Potter!" Snape's voice lashed out. "Get back in your seat."

"But--"

"Ten points, Potter! Sit down!"

Harry stopped moving forward but stayed right where he was, staring at Ron.

Snape turned his eyes to the two boys in front calmly. "Mr. Malfoy? You'll find all the proper ingredients up here. Get to it." 

Ron was white as a sheet, and his eyes rolled back in his head. His pained cry had faded into moans. He clutched at his stomach and fell to his knees.

Hermione stood up. "Do something!" 

Snape just looked to Draco calmly.

Draco slowly made his way to the desk where the ingredients sat waiting. He studied them thoughtfully for a few seconds.

Ron fell forward, holding himself up with one arm. His head lifted and his eyes went right to Harry, pleading. 

Harry swallowed. He had spent most of the night before studying the stupid potion with Hermione and Ron, but his mind was blank. He couldn't remember a single thing about it.

Draco started putting random items into the small cauldron on Snape's desk. He took his time in between, pondering with a look on his face that was supposed to be thoughtful, but looked more like he had some form of indigestion. 

Harry looked back at Hermione. 

She shot out of her chair and marched forward, determined. Harry knew that the exact ingredients were in her head, bursting to get out. 

Draco saw her coming and abandoned the antidote, turning to look at her. He spoke in a slow drawl. "Professor Snape, apparently Granger thinks she can do a better job than me."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Miss Granger. Shall we set aside a few minutes to debate which of you is more fit to make this antidote? I wonder if Weasley will hold up that long."

Harry and Hermione turned back to Ron.

He was staring at his arm in horror as his fingers started drooping. It did look like he was starting to melt, his hand sliding down like candle wax.

One of the girls behind them screamed as she saw it.

Snape simply eyed Harry and Hermione calmly. "Return to your table immediately."

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back with her.

Snape turned back to Draco. "Please continue."

Draco grinned back at Harry before turning back to take his time on a very unhurried antidote. 

Harry just sat there, nearly vibrating with anger, watching Ron's eyes as the rest of him slowly started losing definition and drooping towards the ground. 

Ron's mouth moved, his eyes on Harry, but no sound came out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Draco turned to Snape. "Done."

Harry breathed out in relief. 

Snape stood and went to the cauldron, looking into it carefully. "Are you sure?"

Hermione's hand shot up into the air, waving frantically. 

Draco didn't seem worried. "I think so."

Hermione raised her other hand and waved both, desperate.

"What is it?" Harry asked her.

"Ground toad warts. He didn't put in the ground toad warts." Her voice was deliberately loud.

Snape glanced at her then back at Draco. "What do you say to that?"

Ron kept dissolving slowly into a growing blob on the ground. 

Draco shrugged. "I don't remember anything about ground toad warts."

Snape gestured to Ron. "Then by all means give it to him. You might want to hurry. He may not have a mouth much longer."

Draco scooped some of the potion into a fresh bottle and made his way slowly to the pile of what was only partially solid Ron. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he regarded Ron. He crouched down and awkwardly held the bottle out towards the part that looked like Ron's face. He stayed about six inches away and started pouring it out.

Harry held his breath, looking to Ron. 

The class was so quiet they could hear the syrupy splash of the antidote Draco had made hitting Ron's semi-solid form. 

Instantly Ron started transforming again. Lack of ground toad warts aside, it looked as if the antidote was working. The puddle of flesh-colored Ron on the ground started reforming around the semi-solid hunks that were left.

Most of the students had their eyes averted by then, and the few who were still staring in horror at Ron were pale and disgusted. 

Harry gripped his desk tightly to keep from moving. Hermione was covering her eyes but peering through her fingers, breathing in stutters.

Ron slowly started coming into shape again, but something was obviously wrong. His shape stayed fuzzy, like badly developed film. When the process stopped he knelt there with droopy skin and unfinished features.

But his eyes were clear, having not been touched by the poison. They were staring out from under drooping eyebrows, wide and panicked. 

Snape tsked softly. "Perhaps you should have listened to Granger after all." 

Draco smiled, not at all distressed at failing. "Isn't he back to normal? I don't see anything different."

Snape's mouth twitched, but he shot a look at the laughing Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom had been watching the entire thing with eager eyes. "Silence."

They fell silent but their grins stayed in place. 

Snape looked out at the classroom. "Does anyone have any idea what Mr. Malfoy did wrong?"

Hermione stared at him resentfully. She obviously knew the answer, but for maybe the first time in her life she wasn't eager to demonstrate.

"Mr. Longbottom?" Snape's eyes drifted to Neville.

Neville swallowed, always petrified of Snape. "Um. I…um. Ground…ground toad warts?"

Snape nodded. "And how much should he have put in?"

Neville looked to his desk as if the answer was there. He swallowed again and spoke hoarsely. "Um. I think…just a pinch."

Snape frowned. "Obviously when Miss Granger shouts out the answers, even you can remember them."

Neville flushed and sank in his seat. 

Snape waved his hand at Malfoy and what was left of Ron. "Return to your seats."

"Professor Snape." Harry's voice was cold. If possible he felt even more loathing than usual. 

Snape barely glanced at him. "Hmm? Oh." His eyes went to the frozen, deformed Ron. "You're quite sure he isn't better this way?"

The Slytherin half of the class snickered.

Harry gripped the table so tightly his knuckles were white. 

Snape waved his wand almost absently, and Ron instantly stood there looking perfectly normal. "Return to your seat, Weasley."

Ron stared out at them, his eyes glassy. He blinked a few times and shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, and looked around the classroom.

"Weasley. Take your seat." Snape frowned at him as if he should have been fit to jump across the room straight back into his desk.

Ron moved on shaky legs, stunned, towards his desk. 

Harry stood and helped him the last few steps, sitting him down in concern. 

"How sweet," Snape drawled out. "Now. On to our next potion."

Harry kept an eye on Ron for the rest of the class. His fingers ached from holding the desk so tightly. 

***

It took a full day for Ron to stop walking around with fog in his eyes. He didn't seem to remember much of the class itself, but it as described to him a few times in great detail by the outraged Gryffindors who had actually watched the whole thing.

"--can't believe he's allowed to do things like that. Should have been fired long ago," was how most of the descriptions ended. 

"And Malfoy!" someone else inevitably would continue. "Can't believe he had the nerve…" 

And so on.

Harry himself described the entire thing to Ron a couple of times, trying to stay nice and calm so Ron could get outraged on his own.

But Ron seemed to shrug the whole thing off, almost. He already hated Malfoy and Snape as much as he could hate anyone, and no matter how many times he heard the story, or how many graphic details were blown out of proportion by Seamus and Dean's wild versions of the story, he didn't seem to react much of any way at all.

Which was unlike Ron enough that Harry got even madder on his behalf. "Snape must have done something to you when he turned you back to normal. Given you some sort of…mood spell or something. Just so he wouldn't get into trouble."

Ron shrugged. "I don't think he would, would he? It's alright, Harry. It didn't hurt or anything."

But Harry remembered his eyes as he was melting, and when he was solid again but still deformed. He didn't believe for a minute that Ron had felt nothing. Even if all he felt was fear as he watched himself dripping to the floor; even that would be bad enough. 

Still, what could they do? All the complaints in the world wouldn't do anything if Ron refused to acknowledge that it had hurt him at all. 

School went on, though, as it always did. And by the second day after the Potions class Ron was his usual self.

Which was good, Harry supposed, because it was nearly impossible to make it through Madame Trelawney's Divination class without his best friend there to make fun of everything the woman said along with him.

And in this class there was plenty to make fun of. Trelawney had gone through tea leaves and runes and had moved on to something that involved telling all about their lives by sitting them in a chair in front of the entire class and rubbing her hands over their scalps while rolling her eyes back dramatically. 

As Pavarti was up there, clutching the sides of her chair and breathlessly awaiting her fate, Ron leaned in to Harry. "I see…" he drawled out in his breathless and wicked Trelawney voice. "Oh, this is horrible! My poor girl, you will be cursed with…I can barely say it aloud…dandruff!" 

Harry laughed quietly. "The woman is completely nutters."

Ron muttered his agreement. 

But Trelawney was deep in her trance state and didn't seem to hear them. At last she straightened up and lowered her hands. "Pavarti, dear. I'm sorry to say, but in the very near future you will be accused of something you didn't do. Fortunately the real culprit will be found, but there will be a brief period of great sadness for you."

Pavarti gasped and moved slowly back to her pouf at the front of the class. She looked like she might start crying. Beside her, Lavender grabbed her hand consolingly.

Trelawney turned her eyes back to Ron and Harry; maybe she had heard them after all. "Mr. Weasley."

Ron rolled his eyes and stood up. "This ought to be good."

"At least you won't die horribly," Harry said as he left. "She's saving that one for me."

Ron grinned back at him. "Lucky git."

Harry watched him take the seat.

Ron stuck his tongue out the moment Trelawney was behind him.

"Now Ronald, stay perfectly still. Concentrate hard. This particular form of divination requires full concentration from both seer and student."

"Of course, Madame Trelawney." Ron spoke earnestly, crossing his eyes and making a face.

Harry and a few of the other boys in class snickered. Lavender and Pavarti turned to glare at them before turning back to glare at Ron. 

Trelawney buried her fingers in Ron's red hair and moaned a little, fluttering her lashes. 

Ron squirmed a little, eyes rolling back as he tried to look back at her without moving his head. 

"Well. This is interesting." Trelawney's fingers moved over his head, stopping now and then on a random inch of skull and murmuring to herself. 

When she finally finished, she pulled her fingers from his hair and sighed. "A sad story, I'm afraid."

Harry rolled his eyes. The nutty professor just couldn't see any sort of good future. She wasn't happy unless she saw something horrible. 

"There will be a boy. He will offer himself with gifts and charm. But you should not be fooled by him. He isn't what he seems. I'm afraid you will suffer from heartbreak."

Ron turned in his chair, incredulous. 

The rest of the class stared at him. A few snickers rang out from different areas. 

She straightened and sighed. "You may take your seat."

Ron shook his head, going red as more little bursts of laughter rang out, and hurried across the room and to his chair, sinking down into it.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry was holding back laughter himself as he stood. He was so preoccupied with Ron's ordeal that he didn't even wonder which way he was going to be killed this session.

***

"It's like they have it in for me all of the sudden," Ron said unhappily, still avoiding his classmates' eyes at the lunch table. "That was humiliating."

Hermione's eyes were gleaming with amusement. "It was brilliant, I have to say. If you need any more proof that the woman is a complete fraud…"

"Like I'm some bloody girl. 'There will be a boy. It will end in heartbreak.' Like I'm bloody Lavender wanting to hear about flowers and boys. How…how evil is that woman?" He turned red just thinking about it. "Worse than anything Snape could ever do, I swear."

"Don't say that too loud. He may hear it and take it as a challenge." Harry glanced at the professors' table. Snape was sitting silently, glaring at his food as he ate it. 

"Look on the bright side, Ron. At least you aren't going to be mauled by a…what did she say? 'A monstrous form covered in fur, not usually seen in these parts.' The woman's a raging psychopath."

Ron glared across the table at Harry. "I'd rather be killed by some tiger or something than take flowers from some boy. Honestly."

Hermione giggled, but stifled it when Ron's eyes instantly went to her. She spoke with some difficulty. "At least we know McGonagall won't be singling you out or doing anything horrible, and she's the only class we've got left today."

Ron thought about that. "That's true." McGonagall wasn't the nicest teacher they had, by far, but she was head of their house. She was stern, but she wasn't one to single students out and humiliate them.

Ron seemed comforted enough to enjoy the rest of his lunch. He was even relaxed enough to ignore Harry's occasional chuckles. 

***

"Mr. Weasley."

Ron sat up as all eyes turned to him. He glanced at Harry in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he said under his breath. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?"

"Please come here to the front. And bring your rat."

Ron looked balefully down at Scabbers, who was as usual curled up and snoring softly in a furry gray ball. He lifted the rat, who protested instantly with a mild squeak, and went forward like he was going to his own tomb.

McGonagall nodded to him. "I expect you all have mastered the transfiguration spells we went over during the last class."

Ron swallowed and turned depressed eyes to his friends. They had spent a while on the grounds outside working on it, but the closest Ron had come to turning Scabbers into a beetle ended with a large fur-covered thing that looked like a dinner-plate with a lot of little legs. 

"No, I've noticed you have a particularly difficult time with transformations involving your pet, Mr. Weasley. So I intend to keep you up here until you manage at least this one simple spell."

Harry shook his head in sympathy and glanced at Hermione.

She just sighed. "He's doomed."

***

Ron sat down on his bunk and dropped his head in his hands, looking utterly wasted. "Worst day of my entire life."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad." Harry sat on his own bed right beside Ron's. "And it's over now. I'm sure tomorrow everything will be back to normal."

"Except with everyone teasing me about taking flowers from boys and turning Scabbers into a flying furry hat."

"Neville's done far worse to his poor toad."

Ron considered that. "But I'm not used to it the way he is."

Harry laughed. "Don't worry. You've still got me."

Ron flopped back on his back, sighing. "An entire hour, even with McGonagall helping me. And I can't do a single thing right."

"Your grades aren't bad. Does it really matter that much?"

"I suppose not. And at least…"

Harry looked down at him. "At least what?"

Ron flushed suddenly and shrugged. "Nothing. Just…"

Harry leaned over enough to nudge his arm. "You didn't get melted today, anyway."

"Yeah, but his class is tomorrow, isn't it? And Malfoy…you know he's been laughing at me ever since that day. Keeps pointing at me and sagging in his chair like he's melting. Thinks it's hilarious."

Harry laughed. "I think if Malfoy ever developed a genuine sense of humor he'd be much more frightening than he is now."

Ron chuckled despite himself. "That's true."

***

Ron sat there stiffly, watching Snape. 

He tried to stay relaxed. He could feel Harry shooting him occasional looks. But despite what he'd said the day after it happened, he remembered very well what it was like to see himself drooping, feeling every nerve in his body as they dripped down and hit the floor. It was sort of horrible, his skin separating into drips and collecting in a heap on the floor. 

He had dreams about it the last couple of nights now, seeing himself fading away bit by bit, seeing his eyes blinking in a pile of goo on the floor. 

He shivered, then forced the thoughts out of his head. 

Better him than Harry, at least.

Snape finished sprinkling the powder of unicorn horn into his concoction, and it belched a great burst of glittering silver smoke.

The class oohed, impressed. For a Snape potion it looked almost pretty. 

Snape smiled coldly out at them. "You like it? I suppose you'll be lining up to have a swallow."

Every eye immediately went down, and they fell dead silent.

"Hmm. So you're not entirely stupid after all. The lesson today, class, is that not everything that looks desirable is good for you. And some things…" He lifted the sludgy glass of the first potion he had made that hour. "Some things that look as if they could harm may actually save your life."

And then came the dreaded words. "Now. Who would like to volunteer?"

Harry sank down reflexively, pleading to be overlooked in a quiet voice only Ron could hear. 

Ron could feel the cold press of Snape's gaze move over him and right on to Harry. "No one? Well then, I'll have--"

"I'll do it." Ron shot out of his chair before he could stop himself.

Harry looked up at him in disbelief. 

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Weasley. Very brave. Up here, please."

Ron moved up there before Snape could change his mind. He reached the desk and immediately eyed the two glasses now there. The one, a thick sludgy brown goo, still bubbled with a disgusting squelch. 

The other was the shimmering silver potion Snape had just finished. 

Snape folded his arms and looked down at Ron. "Now. Weasley. The lesson I'm teaching today is that appearances can be deceiving. Keeping that in mind, if I asked you to take a taste of one of these, which would you choose?"

Ron looked at the glasses, biting his lip. He glanced out at Harry before pulling his eyes back in. After a moment he tapped the glass of shimmering liquid. "That one."

Snape's eyebrow lifted archly. "Are you deliberately choosing to ignore my lesson, or is there some reasoning in your mind?"

Ron swallowed. His reasoning, of course, was that Snape hated him and probably would have loved to see him melt again. But that wouldn't go over well if he said it out loud. "Well. I just…I figured that the lesson was too easy. You said appearances could be deceiving, and then you appear to be giving me an easy choice. But…"

Snape pondered him, then nodded once. He seemed disappointed.

Which was a good sign.

"Well, let's see if you're right. Have a sip, Weasley."

Ron grabbed the glass he'd chosen, made confident by the frown on Snape's face. He took a little taste of the silvery stuff.

And then spit it out as fast as he could. Too late -- his mouth was on fire, his tongue shriveling and his teeth dissolving. He gagged as the taste of blood filled his mouth, and had to fight to keep from instinctively swallowing the horrible acid-like potion. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting his own mouth out of his body. 

Snape's disappointed look vanished as if it was never there. He turned to the class. "As you can see, appearances can be deceiving. Things that appear to be tricks are sometimes not."

Ron's stomach seized, and his hand flew away from his mouth as it overflowed and spewed out blood and chunks of things he didn't want to think about.

The class burst into horrified noises.

Snape waved his wand easily and muttered something under his breath.

And the pain vanished, Ron's widening cavern of a mouth was suddenly unharmed and normal. 

He straightened up, shuddering. He reached up and touched his teeth awkwardly, just to be sure. 

"Be seated, Weasley."

He looked down on the floor and saw no trace of any blood or anything.

An illusion, he figured out as he moved back to his seat. So real he could feel it and they could all see it, but just an illusion. No harm done, no complaints to be made. 

He sat down, ignoring Harry's huge, concerned eyes, and shook in his chair. He didn't hear a word of the rest of the lesson.

***

"You think he's got it in for Ron?"

"Why would he? Ron's not Harry. Everyone knows Harry is the one Snape really hates."

Harry heard the voices from across the library and glared. 

But he couldn't be too angry. It was Fred and George Weasley talking, and of course they were furious about what they were hearing about Snape tormenting their little brother. In fact, he didn't think he had ever seen the twins as upset as they looked now.

Fred must have felt his eyes, because he glanced over. "Harry? Come over here and tell us what happened. We keep hearing stories."

Harry picked up his books and went over more than willingly. "What have you heard?"

"Just that Snape's been singling Ron out and doing horrible things."

"Used a mouth-melting illusion on him last time, we hear."

Harry nodded grimly. 

"And made him melt altogether before that."

"Not altogether. He did stop it before Ron was all gone." Harry filled them in quickly on the facts of what had happened. "And the strangest thing of all," he finished, "is that Ron volunteered for it the second time."

"Volunteered?" George stared at him incredulously. "No Weasley since Percy has ever volunteered to help a teacher with a lesson. Especially not Snape."

Harry shrugged. "I know. But he jumped right out of his seat. And the first time he acted like it was nothing afterwards. He tried to this time, too, but as soon as we got back to the dorms he went to the bathroom and threw up all over everywhere."

Fred and George exchanged looks. "Where is he now?"

"Asleep. He sort of passed out when we got him back to his room."

"You know." Fred looked to George thoughtfully. "I hate to say this, but I think we should rat on the little bastard professor."

George thought about it. "I don't fancy going against Snape, that's for sure. Still."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said with a sigh. "Hermione was so outraged that she went straight to McGonagall after Potions. If I hadn't been worried about Ron I would have gone with her."

"Good." Fred sighed. "As much as I hate Snape, I don't like the thought of playing rat."

Harry didn't bother opening his book to study. He was lost in his loathing for Snape. And for Draco, who had amused himself and his brain-dead friends by holding his mouth then fake-vomiting everywhere. 

He couldn't stop seeing Ron in his mind. Horrified and throwing up blood, or sitting there shaken and senseless the rest of class. Laying in his bed in his dorm, shuddering.

Ron was his very best friend in the world. The first friend he had ever had, and the best he could have ever hoped for. He had almost gotten himself killed last year to help Harry. Had willingly sacrificed himself, as a matter of fact. Didn't even hesitate. He hadn't been overawed by Harry once he realized who he was. And he was always there to make him laugh and get angry on his behalf. Not to mention that he had rescued Harry from his home with the Dursleys and smuggled him into school at the beginning of the term.

Ron was the best thing he had found at Hogwarts. Even considering Quidditch. And Harry was not about to sit there for another class and let Snape humiliate him and torture him in the name of learning. 

His mind stuck on Ron, and he stood up after a few minutes and grabbed his books. "I'm going to go check on him."

Fred and George nodded at him seriously then went back to their own quiet conversation.


	2. Two

Harry opened the door to the dark dorm room and peered in. 

He had seen the three other second-year boys who shared the dorm with them downstairs in the common room, so he knew Ron would be alone.

And there he was, sleeping fitfully. 

Harry went to his chest and set his books down. He stuck a finger into Hedwig's cage in greeting, and let the snowy owl nip at his finger. Hedwig looked over at Ron's bed and cooed softly.

Harry smiled. His owl was a very intelligent bird. 

Harry went to Ron's bed. Scabbers was, as usual, passed out. Curled on Ron's table and completely ignoring the rest of the world.

Ron's face was scrunched up in sleep, and he was muttering to himself.

Ron usually slept quietly, so Harry knew right off he was in the middle of some dream. And not a very good one. 

So he reached out and shook his shoulder. "Ron?"

Ron started, his eyes flying open. "Harry?" His voice was panicked.

"It's okay, Ron. Just a dream."

Ron breathed out in relief, sitting up awkwardly. "Harry. Am I glad to see you."

"What's wrong? You had a dream about me?"

Ron rubbed at his eyes and nodded. "Ugh. I hate nightmares. It's usually some bloody great spider out to get me or something."

"Not this time?"

"No." He smiled, but it looked forced. "I guess Snape's got to me."

"Well, no wonder." Harry grimaced into the darkness. "He'd better not try anything like that again."

"It's Snape. Of course he will." Ron shivered a little, then grinned. "Still. No harm done."

"Oh, sure. He had you vomiting your own teeth in class today, but no harm done."

"It wasn't that bad, Harry."

"It looked that bad. It gave you nightmares."

"Look, it's alright. I'm just glad I wasn't sitting there watching it happen to y…to someone else. I think you had it worse." 

Harry scowled at that. He had caught the slip, and knew exactly what Ron had almost said. "You volunteered for him just so he wouldn't pick me, didn't you?"

Ron flushed so hard Harry could see it even in the darkness. "Well. He's always picking on you. It's not exactly fair, is it?"

"But after that last time, with Malfoy…how could you jump right back up there?"

Ron looked away and shrugged. "Wasn't that bad, I told you."

"And you were lying."

"Was not."

"Too."

Ron glared at him, then grinned. "Stupid thing to argue over, isn't it? It's done with."

Harry frowned at him, refusing to let him lighten the air. "It's ridiculous, Ron. I'm not going to let you volunteer to get torn up by Snape just because you think he may call on me."

Ron sighed. "Fine. I won't do any more volunteering. But if he keeps up with you…"

Harry studied his profile for a minute. "Thanks."

"Huh?"

"Thanks. I mean…not for doing it, because I still think you're a bloody idiot."

Ron smiled faintly.

"But thanks for wanting to. No one's ever wanted to…" He didn't really know how to finish. No one had ever stood up for him before, true enough, but Ron did more. Ron jumped in front of fire for him, practically. 

Ron glanced over at him and his smile grew. He was still flushing darkly. "Well, they should have."

Harry thought about it, later that night when he was trying to fall asleep. And it wasn't quite true. There had been people willing to jump into fire to save him.

His parents. And they had died for it.

The thought sent a horrible, vivid feeling of fear through Harry so intense he opened his eyes and lost all trace of sleepiness. 

His parents had died protecting him. He never even knew them, and he still suffered day after day thinking about what they had done. 

The idea that there as someone around, someone he actually did know and like, who was willing to do the same thing…

He glanced over at Ron, studying the head of red hair. 

If Ron ended up getting killed to save him, Harry wasn't sure if he would be able to live with himself. It had almost happened last year, and Harry was more than sure he wasn't done with Voldemort yet. 

Strange, that. How suddenly and all at once the idea of not having Ron around was enough to scare his heart into pounding a mile a minute.

***

Draco Malfoy gave a shrill laugh as Harry and Ron went down to the dining room for breakfast. There weren't many others down there -- they were both coming down late enough to risk being late for their first class. 

Malfoy was there, though, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, and Pansy Parkinson, a sour-faced Slytherin girl who absolutely despised Hermione. And they were all sneering as Harry glanced their way.

"Say, Potter." Malfoy's voice was snide. "Can't you afford a better bodyguard than some miserable Weasley?"

Ron tensed beside Harry, but they kept walking to Gryffindor's table. 

There was laughter from Slytherin.

They sat, and their breakfast immediately appeared on the plates in front of them.

Harry cast all his attention to eating, ignoring the over-loud voices coming from Slytherin's table. 

"I wonder how much he's paying to have a Weasley looking after him. Knowing that family it wouldn't take much."

Ron sat there stiffly across from Harry, picking at his food. 

"You know, now that I think about it maybe it was smart to get a Weasley to do it. They're so poor they'd work for peanuts. And if this one gets killed or something, there's a dozen more just like him to choose from."

Harry nearly choked on his sausage. 

Ron. Killed. The idea of it came too close to his realization that Ron could indeed suffer the same fate as his parents. 

Ron stopped pretending to eat. He sat there, still, hand tight around his fork. 

"I wonder if there's anything that family wouldn't do to get a bit more money. Hey, Weasley, if I gave you a knut would you lick my shoes clean?"

Raucous laughter. 

Ron dropped his fork and stood.

"Ron." Harry's voice was sharp.

Ron looked down at him, his eyes hardly focusing through the anger. 

"You know it's what he wants."

Ron turned a dark gaze to the Slytherin table. 

Malfoy laughed loudly. "Keep thinking it over. Maybe I'll give you two knuts if you do a good enough job."

Harry gazed at him steadily. 

Ron looked down at him, then slowly and stiffly sat. 

"What's wrong?" Malfoy didn't give up. "Potter offer you more to stay there and keep pretending to be his friend?"

Ron's head snapped up at that.

Harry answered fast. "Some of us don't have to buy friends, Malfoy."

"No? I guess you can just rent him cheap, can't you? Only until the school year is up."

"Harry." Ron's voice was soft.

"Forget it. Who cares what he thinks, anyway?"

"I figured with that stash your parents left you you could afford at least a decent friend. Not secondhand trash like him."

Ron growled lowly. 

"If you pay him a little more can he stop making a fool of himself in Potions?"

"Let's just go," Harry dropped his fork.

"No." Ron's voice was sharp. "This is our room as much as it is theirs."

It seemed to be unnecessary at any rate. Malfoy mentioning the scenes in Snape's class had them content to finish breakfast pretending to vomit and melt.

Ron sat there stiffly and listened to it, his face red.

When they finally got up to go to class, Harry wondered why Ron was so insistent that they stay. He hadn't eaten a single bite. 

***

Draco Malfoy was bored.

Bored of his stupid brainless friends in Slytherin. Bored of sucking up to Snape, of putting easy spells on stupid first years, bored of trying to find ways of making Harry bloody Potter look bad. 

He was even bored, already, of Quidditch. He was starting to regret worming his way onto the team. 

He was bored of Hogwarts. They weren't teaching the students hardly anything yet. Stupid spells and bloody pointless potions that didn't even do anything fun.

He was bored of his position there in the Slytherin common rooms, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle and staring at their stupid brainless faces as they laughed at his jokes that they didn't understand. 

He needed a project. 

Something interesting. Something unusual. Something subtle. Something that could end with a bang that no one would be able to predict. 

But what? 

The bell for the evening meal rang out solemnly, and he sighed as he stood and led the way out of the common room and up the stairs.

Hogwarts was just too dull. He had been there all of one year, and now the first three months of this term, and the entire thing was already stagnant. He knew everyone, down to what they would most likely say in any situation. 

He still got mild enjoyment out of tormenting Potter, but he did it by rote now. He knew what Potter's indignant little response to him would be before he even said anything. And Potter's little crew of tagalongs…

He spotted them right off when he got into the dining hall. Already sitting, orderly. Prim and proper and dutiful.

Potter and his rat Weasley seemed to be in good moods now. Recovered from their little humiliations at breakfast. Potter was listening to his friends talk quietly, and he was smiling. 

Normally that would have led to Draco going straight over and doing something quick to wipe all their smiles away.

Boring. Fun, but boring. He had already done it twice that day.

He headed for Slytherin's table slowly. 

Potter. He wasn't sure why Harry Potter got under his skin the way he did. His upright priggish behavior, his fame. He saved the entire bloody school the year before, which no one was about to let anyone forget. 

Draco was going to rule the school by seventh year. No mistake about that. And Harry Potter was going to fight him the whole way.

He turned suddenly and let his pack of Slytherin go on around him. 

And he made his way to Gryffindor's table, an idea came to him suddenly. He put a smile on his face. Not his usual smirk. No. A nice, friendly smile that could have come from the faces of any of those Gryffindor ponces. 

Potter saw him coming, of course, and his own smile vanished.

Good.

But Draco didn't want the usual exchange this time. Too boring. He wanted something new. And since Potter was too bloody predictable, it was up to Draco to change the way this meeting would go. 

He kept his smile bright and cheerful. "Potter."

"Malfoy." Potter was, as usual, tightlipped and suspicious.

The bit by his side, Hermione, sat up straight and pursed her lips and stared at him as though the powers of priggishness would send him running. 

He smiled at her with a nod. "Hermione. You look lovely today."

Her mouth dropped open, but she closed it fast. Couldn't look as though she was caught unawares by anything.

And there, twisting in his seat to face Draco, glared the Weasley brat. 

Draco had to fight to keep the automatic smirk from forming. He hated the Weasleys almost as much as he hated Potter. They were no threat to him, though. "Ron. How are you?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley's voice was low. A little guard dog growling because his beloved master was in danger.

He made a pathetic bodyguard, but Draco went right on smiling. "Just thought I'd say hullo. Pleasant day and all. Have a good dinner." He nodded his goodbye and turned on his heel, heading back to his table.

When his back was to them he let the smirk come out. Why had he never thought of that before? Even his own actions were so predictable these days. A little switch in the program was just what was needed.

Indeed, when he sat at his spot for dinner, he glanced over to see three pairs of eyes still glaring at him. 

He waved at them and laughed to himself as they turned away fast. 

It hadn't been as instantly satisfying as watching Potter go pale in anger, or the Weasley boy turn as red as his hair. But it was fun. 

And it would torment them, he knew. There was nothing more frustrating to a sanctimonious ponce like Potter than when his enemies started behaving themselves through no will of his own. 

He turned to his boys and let their usual conversations flow over him, and he thought about it.

***

"What in the world was that all about?" Ron turned back in his chair, frowning at his friends.

Harry shook his head, looking after Malfoy with brow furrowed. "I'm not sure."

"He's planning something. You can bet on that." Hermione was watching him go as well. "He's just trying to get us to react."

"By saying hello?" Harry seemed dubious.

"Wouldn't put anything past Malfoy." Ron followed their eyes and watched Draco sit at his table. 

Draco glanced over and wiggled his fingers at them in a wave. That odd smile was still on his face.

Ron looked away, feeling a blush creep up inexplicably. If Draco was just trying to get to them, it had worked. He himself wanted nothing more than to go over there and demand Draco give up whatever scheme this was.

Still, Harry was right to wonder. There was something odd about it. 

"--and if I were Malfoy, it's just what I would do," Hermione was finishing with some theory. "Just ignore him."

Harry didn't look convinced by whatever her argument had been, but he turned back to his plate without a word.

***

Ron couldn't help a sigh of relief as they filed out of their Potions class for the day. 

"Well," Harry seemed to echo his feeling. "That was almost pleasant."

Pleasant it wasn't, of course. It could never be with Snape practically hissing at them whenever he saw them, and Malfoy and his cronies there to…

Well, no. Come to think of it, Malfoy hadn't really done much of anything to them. He hadn't even looked their way for most of the class. 

Strange, that. 

"I hear that Professor Dumbledore gave Snape a warning about you, Ron."

"A warning?" Harry looked to Hermione incredulously.

"Just about what he'd been doing the last few classes. Snape isn't allowed to use students to demonstrate any dangerous potions anymore."

"Well. Something good came out of it after all." Harry smiled at that.

Ron decided to speak up. "You notice something odd about Malfoy?"

Hermione reached up to impatiently push her hair out of her face. "Of course. He's really starting to bother me, Harry."

"Why? He's been leaving us alone."

"Exactly! There's something going on. He's planning something, and we're not going to like it, whatever it is."

"Maybe he's just tired of bothering us."

She raised her eyebrows and stared at him.

Harry shrugged. "Well. It could be. What could he be planning that involves him being nice to us?"

"What other reason does he have to be nice?"

Ron looked back and forth between them. His brow furrowed. Something about the way they talked about it bothered him, and he wasn't sure why. 

What was odd was that he felt no urge to speak up. Normally he would have been right there with Hermione, arguing that Malfoy was a slime and couldn't possibly be up to any good. 

Instead he just stayed quiet and listened, and wondered.

***

Draco grabbed his books and started for the door. 

Potter and his little friends had just left. He had caught each of them looking to him several times during the class.

They were bothered all right. Even more than when Draco spent his time calling them names and glaring at them.

He could keep up the smiling and the silence in class and probably drive them into having nervous breakdowns or something. 

But that would take too long. 

Still. It was amusing.

  
***

Draco checked himself in the mirror one last time before leaving the changing room to head to the field. 

He hated this bloody team. How much good time was he wasting practicing out on the field when he could be making real progress towards psyching out Gryffindor's seeker off the field?

But he went; there was no way he would do anything to get thrown off the team. Not when he got to batter Potter so badly during every game. 

He was a minute or two late, and the rest of his team was already on the field. 

But that wasn't what caught his eye. 

Gryffindor must have had the field right before them. There they were, on the sidelines, wiping sweat off their faces and flapping their mouths in excited, inane chatter.

And there was Potter himself, flushed red with exertion and bowing his head as he received pats on the back from his teammates.

Soaking up some compliment, no doubt, in that humiliating, humble way he did. 

It was enough to make a decent person ill. 

Draco looked around the field, wondering…

And yes, of course, there was Weasley. Granger was nowhere in sight, but that wasn't odd. She actually seemed to have some life of her own outside of Potter's. That life was spent entirely in the library, of course, but it was something. Not Weasley. He didn't even pretend to have something better to do than follow Potter around and watch his boring practice. 

Draco thought about what Snape said. Get Weasley out of the way.

But Weasley hated him far too much to ever fall prey to some tactic to separate him and Potter. 

Unless…

Unless Weasley learned not to hate him at all.

Draco ignored his team for the moment, changing direction and heading towards where Weasley sat, waiting for Potter to be dismissed. "Afternoon," he called out with forced cheer.

Weasley's eyes went right to him, and he tensed. "Malfoy."

Draco went into the stand and approached him at a level lower than he was sitting. "How was the practice?"

"Splendid," Weasley answered flatly. 

Draco grinned. "I look forward to giving them a good game this week, at least."

Weasley's brow furrowed. He stared at Draco as if trying to puzzle him out.

Keep trying, Draco thought to himself gleefully. There is no possible way you're even close to smart enough.

The thought caught him, and he put it aside to ponder later. 

"Well, I'd better get to it." He smiled at Weasley, and even tapped him lightly on the shoulder as he past. "See you around."

Weasley watched him go, that same stupid expression on his face. 

Must be why he was always hanging around Potter, Draco mused. He needed someone there who could figure things out for him.

There was so much potential there, it made Draco actually laugh out loud as he climbed on his Nimbus and joined the rest of his team.

***

Potter himself was impossible to get to. The professors all kept their eyes on him closely. His friends were always there to look out for him. Even if Weasley and Granger weren't around, the whole Gryffindor house was protective of its most important member.

Potter himself, Draco knew, wasn't as pomp as his fame would have them think. He was a sort of sad little boy, in Draco's eyes. Pathetic, yes. He sincerely cared about those two rejects he had become friends with. And Snape was right -- he needed them. 

And maybe that meant that the best way to get to Potter wasn't by going after Potter at all.

So, there it was. His project. Everyone was expecting Draco to go after Potter. They wouldn't think to look for anything else.

And with all eyes on Harry, anyone else was easy prey. 

Granger was out, of course. She wasn't nearly the bigger threat. Besides, Draco didn't know how Potter put up with her attitude, but he wasn't about to do it himself. He'd have to chase her down to the library all the time, and he liked to avoid that stuffy bloody room as much as possible.

So. Weasley. 

It was almost simple, but unusual enough to be interesting. Weasley was…well, he was a Weasley, first of all, which gave Draco plenty of ammo. He wasn't nearly as intelligent as his two friends, which was another plus.

Draco had a gift. He assumed he inherited it from his father. He had always been able to understand people. He could tell things about every one of the students in his class the first day he'd met them. Once he learned a little about their history, he could tell practically all he needed to know about them.

Normally it was his habit to use that talent to make sure those other kids knew who was in charge. He was the head of his class, and if they didn't know it he would make them know it. And he wasn't sure how he did it, but he instinctively knew what to go after with each student. He knew what words to say and what fears to play on to get them either on his side, or so cowed they wouldn't dare stand up to him.

Potter was one he hadn't gotten to, but he was saving some of his ammunition where Potter was concerned. Of course he knew all about Potter's family, his dull, mean Muggle aunt and uncle, how Harry cried like a stupid girl over his real parents. He knew it, and would use it sometime, when he really needed it. 

Still. With his abilities to read into people, Weasley would be a piece of cake. He was only an unremarkable kid in a family full of them. He was no one special. Draco could tell when he first laid eyes on Ron Weasley -- it radiated from him. No One Special. Not at home, not in class, and certainly not compared to his friends. No special talents, no real intelligence. He was born to be a tagalong. He wasn't even especially fair-skinned and bright-eyed, as all kids their age were supposed to be. He was sort of ruddy and plain. 

It was all too perfect. 

Potter, of course, honestly cared about the boy for some strange reason. Which was the only thing that made Weasley interesting enough for Draco to waste his time on.

So. His project. It was clear and easy and all he had to do was get it started.

***

Ron studied his pieces for a moment, thoughtful.

Harry sat back and watched. He was going to lose anyway. He always did when he played Ron. 

Still. It relaxed him to play with his best friend. He liked watching Ron play, because it was one thing that Ron knew he was good at. He was confident when he moved his pieces, and there wasn't much else he was confident at. 

Chess for Ron was like Quidditch to Harry. Despite everyone telling Harry how brilliant and wonderful he must be to have been the Boy Who Lived, the only thing he actually felt brilliant at was Quidditch. 

Ron moved suddenly, sliding his knight with a grin on his face. 

Harry was doomed. He looked down at the board and watched the chess pieces go into motion.

The whole fun of Wizard Chess was watching the pieces cream each other. Hermione seemed to think it was barbaric, but Harry thought it made the game much more interesting.

Ron's chess set was old, of course, like everything else he had. It had belonged to a grandfather before Ron had gotten it, and that grandfather may even have inherited it from someone. 

The pieces didn't move as fast as the newer models, and the deaths were much less spectacular.

Harry watched as his thoughts were confirmed: Ron's knight reached its destination, where one of Harry's rooks stood, and came to life. The horse reared back with a whinny that sounded pained.

And then it flopped over onto its side. 

Harry was taken aback. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Ron's smile vanished. "Of course it isn't supposed to happen!' He reached out and grabbed the knight and set it back upright. "Come on, you."

The horse made a pathetic noise and went back to the rook. This time it just lifted one of its front legs and gave the rook a nudge. 

The rook, looking as tired and old as the rest of them, accepted that as his death and went limping off the board.

"Oh, come on!" Ron slammed his hand down on the table. "Stupid old bloody set. Forget it!" He stood and abandoned the game in disgust. 

The white side, which Ron had been playing, gave a great sigh of relief and slumped where they stood.

Harry frowned down at them and gathered them all quickly into the thread-bare little sack Ron kept them in. 

He went to where Ron was sitting and fuming. "Doesn't really matter, does it? You'd have slaughtered me anyway." He stretched the bag out to him.

Ron snatched it from him. "Not the point, is it? They're useless now." He dropped the bag on the floor like it was trash. "Not like I can get a repair kit, or a new set." He blew out a sigh explosively. "Forget it. Stupid game anyway."

Harry frowned. If he had his way he would sneak right out to Hogsmeade and get Ron a brand new set. They weren't that expensive, really.

But Ron would never take it. He was extremely sensitive about how poor his family was, and though now and then he erupted in anger that he never had anything decent, he would be humiliated if Harry bought him anything.

Maybe for Christmas, Harry thought to himself with a sigh. Ron would still protest that it was too expensive a gift, but it wouldn't be as bad. 

***

Ron careened out of the bathroom as the bells for lunch rang. Late again. It didn't much bother him to be late for class, but late for a meal? Entirely different. 

He was charging along so fast that he only caught a glimpse of black and blonde at his side before he rammed his shoulder into something and went sprawling in one direction. He hit the ground hard, one wrist twisting sharply as he tried to catch himself.

Unpleasant laughter rang out over his head, and Ron lay there for a moment wishing he could just pull his robe over him and disappear. He recognized that laughter.

He rolled over onto his back; it wasn't good to leave himself utterly defenseless. His wrist throbbed painfully. 

Sure enough. On the ground, knocked the other way by the force of Ron's blow, sat Draco Malfoy. His mouth was twisted downwards sharply, and his eyes were on Ron.

Above him stood his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. They were holding each other in their laughter, looking from Ron to Draco in anticipation. 

Malfoy got up slowly, dusting off his slacks. He shot a glare towards his two friends. "Think it's funny, do you?"

They stopped laughing instantly. 

Ron swallowed, sitting himself up with the one hand that didn't hurt. Malfoy's strange niceness the last couple of days aside, he was going to make Ron hurt for this one. And Ron's wand was still broken, his friends nowhere in sight. Not to mention that he might kind of deserve it for being so careless. He had slammed into Malfoy. It was his fault. 

A flash of pain went up his arm, and he grabbed his wrist with his good hand. He breathed in sharply, but didn't react beyond that. Never paid to show a snake where your weaknesses were, after all.

Though sometimes he got the feeling that Draco Malfoy knew every one of his weaknesses already.

Malfoy stood for a moment, all eyes on him, and looked from his friends to Ron. 

The silence became awkward, and Crabbe cleared his throat. "Careless today, Weasel. Someone should teach you to watch where you're going."

"Crabbe." Malfoy's voice was quiet and flat.

Crabbe shut up instantly and turned to him, waiting.

Ron got to his knees awkwardly, holding his injured hand.

Malfoy came towards him and crouched before he could get up. His eyes glinted silver in the dim light of the halls. He stretched a hand out.

Ron blinked at it, waiting for the smack or the spell words or whatever was about to happen.

"Up you come," Malfoy said softly, motioning with his hand.

Ron frowned, but after a moment he took Malfoy's hand with his uninjured one and let Malfoy help him to his feet. 

Malfoy saw the way Ron kept his other hand close to his chest. "Hurt yourself, did you?"

Ron looked down at his hand stupidly for a moment before shaking his head. "No. I'm alright. I…uh. Sorry. About that."

Malfoy hesitated, and then glanced back to where Crabbe and Goyle stood gawking at them. "Get to lunch," he ordered them tersely. 

They hesitated, but a moment later started off down the hall. They looked back more than one time.

Malfoy turned back to Ron. "Now. We'd better have you off to the hospital wing."

Ron gaped at him, but shook his head again. "I'm alright. Really."

Malfoy cocked his head. "You are not, Ron Weasley. Lunch can wait for us to check on that hand of yours."

Ron wasn't quite sure what to think of anything at all, so he let Malfoy take his arm and lead him off the other direction.

He watched the halls pass and corners turn, and eventually he turned to look at Malfoy's profile. "Are you taking me somewhere deserted so you can kill me?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

Malfoy glanced over at him, and then suddenly stopped. A shadow seemed to cross his face, and he nodded to himself and released Ron's arm. "I can…I know you don't trust me. I can go and get Potter for you if you'd like." He backed up a step. His eyes seemed to hold a shadow of hurt.

Ron didn't know exactly what to say. He stood there for a minute dumbly and let Malfoy turn his back. "Uh."

Malfoy spoke softly. "I'm sure you know where you're going. Weasley." He added the name almost as an afterthought, injecting contempt into his voice that sounded more like his normal tone. 

Ron watched him go. Funny thing was, he almost wanted to speak up and stop him. He felt for a moment like he had actually hurt Draco Malfoy's feelings.

Amazing, because an hour ago he could have sworn Malfoy had absolutely no feelings to hurt.

***

Draco cursed to himself under his breath as he headed back towards the dining hall. 

Not a bad start all in all, but damn that Weasley. Draco was going to have bruises later because he took the fall like that. 

Just his luck to choose some careless git to make nice to. And for a thin little nothing Weasley, Ron could hit like a bludger. 

He shook out the arm Weasley had slammed into, grimacing.

Still, not a bad day. That look on Weasley's face as Draco left had said it all. He felt guilty. Already. Draco hadn't done much of anything yet and he already had Weasley ready to eat out of his hand. 

He smiled to himself grimly and headed off to get himself some lunch.

***

"Are you alright, Ron?"

Ron looked up from his book, more than happy for the distraction from studying. 

Harry was watching him. He leaned in, lowering his voice so not to disturb the other students around them. "Is something wrong with your hand? You don't usually use your left so much."

Of course Harry noticed. Harry noticed most everything. Ron shrugged. "I fell. Pomfrey said it was hardly a sprain at all."

"Is that why you missed lunch?"

Ron nodded. He hesitated, wondering if he should tell Harry about the odd run-in with Malfoy. 

"Is something wrong?"

"No. I…Harry." He bit his lip, thinking over his words. "Never mind."

"What is it, Ron?"

"Nothing." Ron smiled and nodded at his book. "Guess I just don't want to go back to reading."

Harry grinned and shut his book firmly. "Want to go out to the field and practice some flying?"

Ron slammed his book shut and jumped out of his seat.

***

Draco hesitated in the doorway to the classroom.

Goyle and Crabbe sat there, same as always. On the other side of the class sat Potter's little group. 

He waited in the doorway for a minute. He stared at Potter's group, at Weasley, and counted down the seconds.

Granger saw him first. She rolled her eyes automatically and looked away from him, her nose in the air.

Self-righteous wench. Draco kept his eyes on the back of Weasley's red head.

Sure enough, she looked back a moment later. She leaned in to Potter and Weasley and said something quietly.

Potter's eyes went right to Draco. Something challenging was in them, as expected. 

Just like Potter. The good little angel was the darling of Hogwarts, yet one look from Draco and everyone's sweetheart was ready to fight. 

Such a hostile little boy, Draco thought with a smile.

Finally Ron turned his head slowly and looked at him.

Draco met his eyes for the briefest second, then dropped his head and slunk over to his usual seat. 

He made a point not to look at that side of the room for the rest of class.

***

Hermione looked up with a frown as loud voices interrupted the silence of the library. "Oh, God."

Ron and Harry followed her gaze and saw Malfoy and his loud-mouthed friends coming in.

The three of them made their way around the tables, with Crabbe and Goyle deliberately smacking the backs of various Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as they passed.

Harry watched as the group approached his table, and tensed. 

He saw something unusual, though.

Instead of sneering or smirking or making any of his usual faces, Draco looked down at them, at Ron really, and just nodded his head in greeting. 

Crabbe's big arm swung around as he followed Draco, and it smacked into Ron's back. He snickered.

Draco turned around instantly. "Cut it out." His voice was low.

Crabbe and Goyle stopped in their tracks, blinking surprised eyes at him. 

Draco just rolled his eyes. "Come on."

They left and went deep into the rows of books behind Harry's table.

Harry frowned after them. "That was weird." He glanced at Ron. "I admit it now. Hermione's right -- I think Malfoy may actually be up to something."

But, oddly enough, Ron didn't speak his agreement. He just looked past them to where Malfoy had disappeared. He was rubbing his right wrist absently. 


	3. Three

***

Ron felt eyes on the back of his head. 

He sat there stiffly and ignored it. 

The practice was going wonderfully. Harry had already caught the snitch twice, and Wood had him sitting out for a few minutes to give the rest of the team time to practice. He was floating now on his broom close to the goal, watching Oliver twist and spin and block every shot his team threw at him. 

And someone was staring at Ron. He knew it. He felt it. 

And he was almost sure he knew who it was. 

He wasn't sure when it happened, but Draco Malfoy had suddenly started popping up everywhere. Suddenly he was always watching Harry and Hermione and him. He was snapping at his own friends instead of snapping at Harry and him. 

But it was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, the smart-mouth who had insulted Ron the very first time they had ever met. 

Because Ron was a Weasley. 

And Draco was a Malfoy. 

Yet, there he was. All the time, there he was. It was starting to get a little spooky, but Ron didn't say anything. He didn't want any more trouble than there already was between Harry and Malfoy.

He ignored the eyes watching him, and he watched Harry. 

But Malfoy wasn't one to be ignored. "Weasley."

He turned: Malfoy was right behind him. "Malfoy."

Malfoy sat down in the stands a level above Ron, and a seat over. He nodded out at the field. "You must really love this game."

Ron looked back out at the field. More than a little wistfulness came over him. "Of course. Everyone at the school does."

"Still. Not everyone is out here watching the practices. Do you want to play?"

Ron frowned to himself. He kept silent, watching as Harry finally got called back into the game, and the snitch was set loose again. 

Harry was off like a shot. 

Malfoy sighed behind him. "I'm only trying to talk, Weasley. It can't do any harm, can it?"

Ron looked back at him.

Malfoy's light eyes were watching the players. That same sad look was back.

If Ron didn't know better, he'd swear that Malfoy looked lonely. 

And no, talking couldn't do any harm. Not out here in public where Malfoy couldn't kill him and make it look like an accident, anyway.

So he answered Malfoy's earlier question honestly. "I've always wanted to play. My brothers…"

"I know. Head boy, wasn't one? And a team captain? And a prefect of your own house."

"Among other things." Ron shrugged and watched Harry swoop around the field. "I still remember being a child, when they would come home at holidays and talk for hours about games they'd played. Mum and dad were always proud of them." He shut his mouth suddenly, glancing back at Malfoy.

Never show a snake your weak spots, he berated himself as Malfoy's mouth tilted up in a smile. 

But Malfoy's next comment surprised him. "It must have been wonderful growing up with so many other children around you."

Ron blinked at him. He turned in his seat, studying Malfoy. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy turned to him finally. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Why are you here?"

Malfoy looked away again. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes lowered. "You don't know?"

Ron frowned at him, trying to see through the act to any of the malice that he knew was in Malfoy's heart. 

"You…" Malfoy sighed. "You and Potter, and that Granger…I mean, Hermione. You're an odd sort of group, aren't you?"

"Not so very, I guess." Ron looked back out at Harry. "He's Harry Potter, you know, and it makes him different than other kids. And Hermione…well, she doesn't do well with students here. She takes some getting used to. And me." Ron turned his eyes back to Malfoy. "I'm a Weasley, and we all know it doesn't pay to make friends with my sort. So I suppose we're all outcasts together."

Malfoy's lips pressed together. "Look, Weasley. Ron. I'm…" He shook his head. "Well, there isn't really anything I can say. I suppose it works for you, to be outcasts together like that. You seem to have it all right."

Ron nodded. "When you give us a chance to, yeah." 

"I'm…" Malfoy sighed heavily all of the sudden. "Oh, forget it. What difference does it make? I suppose we just weren't meant to get along, were we?" He stood up and abruptly walked off.

Ron frowned after him. He turned back to the field slowly, finding Harry easily among his bigger teammates.

A moment later he was off to the stairs, pounding down them at the same time he was asking himself if he had completely lost his mind. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy was only a little ahead. He stopped down by the bottom steps and turned back. "What?"

Ron stopped a few steps above him. What indeed. Good question. "You…you're playing some sort of joke, aren't you?"

That wounded look that he'd gotten the day Ron asked if he was going to kill him reappeared, but Malfoy stifled it. "Think whatever you want, Weasley."

Ron spoke before he could leave. "What do you mean, we weren't meant to get along? That's an odd thing to say."

Draco leaned against the handrail and studied Ron. "Weasley. Malfoy. It's in our blood to be enemies, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Ron asked, surprised. 

"You don't think so? From our fathers before us? I was raised to hate you."

"Honestly?" Ron was shocked. He had heard from his father about the Malfoys, and how horrible Lucius was towards Muggle-lovers like Arthur Weasley. But raised to hate? Not in his household. Ron knew of Lucius as wicked, but wicked enough to teach his son to despise someone because of their family name? 

That was horrible. 

Draco appeared just as shocked. "You mean…you didn't hate me because I was a Malfoy?"

"Of course not!" But even as he said it Ron wondered how much it was true. "I…" It was in his nature to be honest, so even as he wondered he spoke out loud. "I thought certain things about you, though. Malfoys do have a reputation as…well…"

"Yes, I know." Draco smiled at that bitterly. "Don't suppose I ever had a choice in the matter. The moment I was born a Malfoy the whole wizarding world knew exactly what kind of a boy I was."

Ron stared at him. "That's…that's an awful thing to say."

"Awful or not, it's true. Look at your friend Potter. From the moment he got that scar he's had no choice but to grow to become a wizard, and everyone expects so much of him. You, you're expected to do nothing but follow in the footsteps of your family. And me, I'm expected to become my father. It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

Ron shook his head.

Malfoy smiled a little more sincerely. "Wonder what it would do to the wizard world if we decided not to do as they expect."

"Ron?"

Ron turned, surprised by the call. "Harry?"

Harry answered from beyond the stairs, where he was probably hovering by the stands. "Are you leaving? Practice is nearly over." 

Ron glanced back at Malfoy. 

Draco just nodded to him to go. "Get back to your friend, Weasley."

Ron turned. He was disturbed by the conversation enough to start back up the stairs without a word. "I'm coming, Harry."

"But I wonder…"

Malfoy's voice stopped him. He glanced back. 

Draco regarded him rather blatantly. "I wonder if maybe you could be more than they think you are, Ron."

Surprised at Malfoy calling him by his first name, Ron just waited in silence.

"You think you're in the shadow of all your brothers, and here you're hiding in the shadow of your friends." Malfoy nodded past him to where Harry was no doubt still waiting. "I wonder what you could be if you defied them all, Ron." Draco's eyes went down, thoughtful. "I wonder what I could be," he added softly, almost too softly to hear.

"Ron? Hurry up!"

"I…" Ron looked up towards Harry, then back at Malfoy.

Malfoy smiled up at him at that. "Just go. Can't keep Potter waiting."

So Ron went.

***

It was ridiculous to even be thinking about it.

Draco Malfoy was an evil little git, simple as that. He was Snape's prized student, which said more than enough. He was full of hatred and anger. 

He hated Ron and his family. He hated Harry and Hermione.

So why was Ron even bothering to think about that last odd meeting?

Malfoy had seemed sincere enough. Sad, too. Ron hadn't caught sight of any slip that might mean he was just pretending.

But he had to be pretending. Honestly, it was Malfoy. It was the sneering boy who tried to kill Harry during Quidditch. Who called Hermione a Mudblood. Who despised Ron's entire family.

Because his father had raised him to.

Was that true? Ron wondered. From what his father said about Lucius Malfoy, he was cruel enough to do it. 

So…what did that mean? If Draco was raised to hate him, maybe he hadn't honestly wanted to. Maybe he just thought he had to. 

No, that was ridiculous. 

Or was it? 

Ron loved his mother and father. He might occasionally resent the fact that they were so poor, or that his father didn't even attempt to move into a better job for more money, but he loved them. He took what they said seriously, more often than not. 

His father had always loved Muggles. Everything about them. And so Ron grew up thinking that Muggles were no better or worse than wizards and witches. 

What if his father had been the other way? Would Ron hate Muggles if that was what he grew up learning? Would he hate Hermione and call her a mudblood too?

He wanted to think he wouldn't. But he wasn't sure.

So…what if that was why Draco had been so quiet lately? Draco was finally tired of parroting out ideas that his father taught. He wanted to think for himself. 

He wanted to be more, wasn't that what he said? More than what the wizarding world expected him to be. 

And he wondered if Ron could be more, too. 

More…more what? More than some Weasley with dirt on his face and tattered clothes? 

Well, all that could be done with a little money. It wasn't like Ron could change it by just behaving different. 

Hiding in the shadow of his friends…

Ron frowned at the unfocused words on the page in front of him. Lost in the shadow of his brothers at home, and now hiding under the shadows of his friends.

What a strange thing for Draco to say. 

But before he could think more about it, he became aware of the fact that someone was talking to him.

He focused on Harry as he waved a hand in front of Ron's face with a smile. "You have that look on your face that you get when Sprout's been lecturing for too long. Are you completely ignoring me?"

Ron shook his head to clear it. He grinned self-consciously. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"You?" Harry laughed.

"Shut up." Ron punched Harry's arm. 

Harry raised a hand to ward him off. "Sorry. No, tell me. What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Malfoy," Ron answered honestly.

"Malfoy?" Harry stared at him. "Are you mad? What are you thinking of him for?"

"Well. It's odd, isn't it? That we hate him and he hates us. There's no real reason, is there?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Ron, he's a bully. He wants to be in control of everybody. That's why I don't like him."

"But you're different, Harry. You grew up in the Muggle world. You weren't told the kind of things we were. The rest of us, we grew up knowing exactly what Malfoys are. Just as everyone knows who you are, and everyone knows me and my brothers and sister just by looking at us. Word goes around fast, and sometimes it isn't true but they go on talking anyway."

Harry looked at him carefully for a moment. "Ron, why not say what's on your mind?"

"I'm not really sure, honestly." Ron looked away from Harry's round, curious eyes. "I just wonder, that's all."

"Well, you can stop wondering. Malfoy or not, Draco is cruel and selfish, and definitely no friend of ours."

***

When Percy made prefect, his parents bought him an owl and new robes and a few other little things.

At Christmas break last year when Ron could have gone home, his parents instead used the last of their savings to go to Romania and visit Charlie. 

Ron sat there in his old robes, with a near-dead rat sleeping next to him and a broken wand that was really useless. 

Charlie had been the greatest seeker in Hogwarts. That's what people said, anyway. He became captain of the team. Everyone had loved Charlie so much that even though he had left the school ten years ago, teachers still brought him up when they talked to Ron. 

Bill was different. He wasn't on the Quidditch team. But he was, if his stories could be trusted, the most popular boy in his year. He said even Slytherins liked him. He left school with tons of friends. He was Head Boy his seventh year. 

Ron grew up idolizing Bill and Charlie, more from stories and occasional visits than from actually knowing them.

Now Percy was prefect, and he would probably make Head Boy himself next year. His grades were near perfect, and he'd gotten so many O.W.L.s that his parents couldn't stop talking about it. Then he got the robes, and the owl. 

Fred and George were different. They didn't give a single thought to their grades if they could help it. They spent some of their time on Quidditch, and most of it on making everyone laugh. 

Fred and George were the most popular boys in Gryffindor. Everyone loved them. They were an almost unbeatable team of blockers on the field, and people just loved to see them coming down the halls. 

They didn't care about any of it, really. And they were so close that Ron now and then felt a little jealous. They always had each other, at home and at school and on the field, and they were really happy.

Now Ginny was at the school too. She was too shy so far to be very popular, but she was doing well and seemed thrilled just to be there.

Ron was…well, he was just him, wasn't he? He did alright in school, but not great. He wasn't particularly clever or anything, and really he wasn't popular. Everyone who knew him only knew him because of Harry.

At home his mum and dad spent most of their time talking about what Bill and Charlie were up to, or congratulating Percy on his latest accomplishment, or scolding Fred and George over their latest pranks, or making sure Ginny was okay. Ron did tend to get lost in the fold.

Lost under their shadows. 

Ron could remember easily enough when he and his brothers had returned home from rescuing Harry from his horrible Muggle family's house, and his mother yelled at Fred and George for taking the car then cooed over Harry the way she did. Hadn't really said two words to Ron, had she? 

Still. What did any of that matter? Ron knew without a doubt that his mum and dad loved him. He never thought otherwise. 

No, he was just feeling sorry or himself. That's all. 

And it was surprisingly easy to go from feeling sorry for himself to feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy.

He wondered what it had been like, growing up in his house. Draco didn't have any brothers or sisters. He had a horrible father, and probably a horrible mum. He was brought up being taught that everyone was inferior to him. 

Ron had seen him and his father at the book shop before school started. The way his father brushed him aside, and only spoke to him to shut him up. 

Did Draco really have any choice but to end up the way he was? 

He thought about it a lot. He didn't say anything, because Harry already thought that he was mad after that one conversation, and Hermione was seeing red towards Malfoy lately, ever since he started calling her names.

He almost wished he could talk to them, though. He honestly wasn't sure whether he was smart enough to figure it all out on his own. 

***

He ended up searching Draco out. It was harder than he thought -- suddenly Draco seemed to be staying away from his usual spots, and he had apparently all but deserted Crabbe and Goyle, to their obvious distress. 

He pondered about it, but he had no idea what was going on in this strange new Draco's head. So he simply waited outside of class for him one day, told Harry to go on without him, and hoped Draco didn't ignore him completely.

Draco saw him standing there waiting, and a smile crossed his face. He almost seemed pleased. "Weasley."

"Malfoy." Ron started walking beside him, looking straight ahead. "I've been thinking."

"Have you? How splendid. Granger must be thrilled."

Ron almost got defensive. He looked over and saw the smile, though, and relaxed. It was a joke. Just a joke, like one Harry would make.

So he responded in kind, reaching over and nudging Draco's arm. "Shut up." But he as smiling.

Draco glanced back at him, and seemed pleasantly surprised at Ron's response. "You're not so quick to get mad these days."

"Well. I…" Ron shrugged. "Neither are you."

"Shhh. Don't tell anyone. You'll ruin my good name."

Ron laughed.

Draco looked over again, and laughed with him a moment later.

"Ron?"

Ron looked ahead and saw that Harry hadn't gone too far after all. He was watching them, frowning. 

Ron bit his lip and glanced at Draco. "I suppose I better go. But I wanted…that is, I was meaning to say…"

Draco kept his smile. "Do you want to have a talk sometime, Ron? Away from all these meddlesome friends?"

Ron relaxed. "Yes. I think so."

"Good. I'll hunt you down tomorrow."

Ron sped up then and joined Harry, leaving Draco behind. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry took his arm and steered him away quickly. "You have gone mad, haven't you? What in the world could you have to say to Malfoy?"

Ron pulled his arm away somewhat defensively. "I'm not allowed to speak to him?"

"I just don't know why you'd want to." Harry frowned at him. "You're acting very odd lately, Ron."

Ron noticed Harry look back to where they'd left Draco, and saw the suspicious tilt of Harry's frown. 

"I wonder what he could be up to," Harry muttered to himself as they walked.

Ron frowned. "He's just being friendly."

"Friendly? Draco Malfoy? You should know better than that."

Something about Harry's suspicion angered Ron a little, but he wasn't sure why until he opened his mouth and the words came out. "I suppose you think he would only talk to me to get to you somehow."

Harry turned surprised eyes to him.

Ron clamped his mouth shut, looking away. Stupid mouth, just blurted out whatever he thought far too much of the time. 

Still. Was that part of what Draco had meant when he'd said Ron was hiding under the shadow of his friends? Did Harry honestly think that no one would talk to Ron unless it somehow involved Harry as well?

No, answered a part of his mind. Harry has more than good reason to be suspicious. Draco had been very spiteful towards him for the last year and a half. Spiteful towards all of them. Harry had a right to wonder why he was suddenly acting nice now. 

But he wasn't wondering why, was he? He was just assuming that it had something to do with him. He didn't care any of the things Ron had to say about Draco, he just took his own assumptions to be true. Because Ron's opinions couldn't be worth considering, could they?

He grimaced to himself. That was ridiculous. This was Harry, his best friend. What was he thinking? 

Harry was still looking at him, still taken aback. So Ron cleared his throat and grinned half-heartedly. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little grumpy today."

Harry nodded after a minute and kept walking.

Ron, as usual, followed.

***

Draco smiled to himself as he stared up at the dark ceiling of the dormitory. 

Tomorrow he would pull Weasley aside and they would have a nice talk. After a bit of acting on his part, and a bit of foolish believing on Ron's, Draco would have him. Easy as that. 

Question was, what would he do with Weasley once he had him? It wasn't as if he wanted Weasley hanging around. Even though it would be a good blow to Potter to have his best friend sitting with Slytherin, Ron would be too much of an annoyance. 

So…what to do? 

The only problem this project had as that it didn't have much of an end to it. Winning the favor of Potter's right hand man was one thing. But what to do with that favor once he had it? 

One thing was for sure; it would be a way to get back at two enemies at one time. Harry Potter, and those brainless Muggle-loving Weasleys. The whole clan of them sitting there at Gryffindor's table, happy and pleased as punch with their poor, pathetic lives. Even had a new one in this year, the little brat Ginny. 

For a moment he honestly almost felt bad for Ron. Hell it must have been growing up in a house full of those annoying beasts. 

Perhaps there was some way to turn things around for Weasley. Whether he wanted it or not. 

***

Ron felt a tap on his shoulder, and his eyes grew wide when he turned and saw Draco there.

In the middle of the dining hall? He had thought they would be sneaking off somewhere. 

But there Draco stood, smiling almost pleasantly. "Ron? I believe we have a date."

Hermione stood up instantly. "He isn't going anywhere with you, Malfoy."

Draco glanced at her, and then turned smiling eyes back to Ron. "I think he may disagree with you, Granger. Your friend does have a mind of his own, you know."

Ron sat up, almost pleased. He did have a mind of his own, didn't he? Absolutely right. "Ignore her, Draco."

Hermione gaped at him. "Ron…"

"Don't start prattling, for God's sake. I'll see you later." He stood up and walked by Draco's side to the door.

***

"Well done back there, Weasley."

Ron grinned and accepted the chocolate frog Draco handed him. "Thanks. It was no big deal, really. Hermione has a big mouth sometimes, is all."

Draco reached into his robe and pulled out another frog, and settled back against the wall. "Think we'll get caught here?"

"Nah. Hermione says no one comes in here. There's a rather annoying ghost in here at times, but maybe she won't come out tonight."

Draco looked around with his old smirk back on his face. "Still. The girl's bathroom?"

Ron shrugged. "As good a place as any."

"I suppose."

They munched for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence. 

And then, as Ron finished his frog and was looking at the wizard card in interest, Draco leaned over and kissed him square in the lips.

Ron felt the blood rush to his face, and his mouth dropped open. "What…What was that?"

Draco shrugged, looking defiantly unembarrassed. "Just a thanks for giving me a chance, Ron. No one else in your house would, I think."

"Well…I mean, sure they would. They aren't all bad."

Draco laughed, leaning back.

"What?"

"You don't think it's a little funny? You stopping me from thinking your friends are bad?"

Ron quirked a smile at that, and everything seemed comfortable again.

"But you're wrong. No one at that entire table would have even spoken to me nicely except you."

"It's just…honestly, Draco, you haven't given them much reason to."

"You either," Draco pointed out. 

Ron thought about that. "Well, you didn't poison the frog I just ate."

Draco grinned. "Are you sure?"

Ron blinked down at the box in his hand, then shrugged. "Yes."

"Trusting, aren't you?"

"I suppose. I'm still here, anyway."

Draco shrugged. "You can go if you'd like."

"I thought we were going to talk."

"What do we have to talk about, I wonder?"

Ron hesitated. "I'm actually not sure."

"Well then. Maybe we shouldn't talk." Draco wagged his eyebrows.

Ron frowned. "Are you going to kiss me again?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Can you stop answering me with questions?"

Draco laughed. "Maybe."

There was silence. 

"Maybe this was a bad idea." Ron stood up suddenly, feeling very awkward.

Draco just watched him. "Ron. Why did you want to talk to me anyway?"

"I don't know. To see if Harry was wrong. To see if you were right about…"

"About you leaving your friends' shadows?"

Ron shrugged, his face coloring pink. 

"That's it, is it?"

He hesitated. "I just didn't think of it like that. They're my friends. It surprised me when you said something."

"Of course it did. You're so used to being the little boy, aren't you? Listening to your brothers tell their wonderful stories, watching your mom and dad being so proud of everyone else. You're used to standing by while others take the glory. So it doesn't seem odd to you at all." 

"They're my friends," Ron said again, settling back down after a moment.

Draco nodded. "They're your friends. And Crabbe and Goyle are my friends. That doesn't mean they wouldn't stab me in the back if they got something out of it."

Ron laughed at that. "They're not your friends."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"Harry's my friend because he listens to me, and we have fun, and we help each other out. Crabbe and Goyle are scared of you, that's all."

"That's all? I suppose I'm not fit to make real friends then. Is that it, Weasley?"

"Well. No, obviously not if I'm here."

Draco frowned. "You think one talk makes us friends?"

"I had thought…" Ron looked down at the ground, considering. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"But not like Crabbe and Goyle are my friends."

"No. I'm not scared of you."

***

Draco looked up sharply at that. He tried to meet Ron's eyes, but he was looking away. "You're not, eh?"

Ron looked up then. "No. I mean…I'm not sure what to make of you. And I can't say that I like how you treat Harry and Hermione and the others. But I'm not scared of you, no."

And Draco could read in the boy's eyes that he was telling the truth. Ron was far too open and foolishly honest. The few times he tried to lie it showed on him easily. 

He had to admit he was a little taken aback by that. Just as he was honestly taken aback by Ron's instant certainty that Draco's friends weren't really his friends.

He hadn't thought the Weasley was all that perceptive. He was almost tempted to ask if he and Potter had talked about this before, and maybe Ron got all his ideas from his friend.

Amazing. Stupid pathetic Weasley was actually doing something to surprise him. 

Ron looked at him, and then looked away. "That's not an awful thing to say, is it?"

"Admitting you aren't scared of someone?" Draco gave a genuine bark of laughter. "Hardly."

"I just…sometimes I say stupid things like that and it gets me into more trouble than…well. Sometimes I say stupid things. That's all."

Aha. Ron was back to being his usual insecure self. Good. 

Draco reached out and touched his arm. "Don't worry about it. Everyone's allowed some mistakes."

Ron looked down at Draco's hand, and his cheeks went pink again.

Draco smiled and sidled in a little closer. "I'm really glad you decided to listen to me, Ron. Now that I've got you alone without your friends here, I can see my father was wrong about you."

Ron looked back up at his face. "Were you really brought up to hate us?"

Draco nodded. "When I was talking about the ideas the wizarding world has about us because of our names…well, my father is one of the worst believers in all that. I…I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but I knew all about you before I even came here. He said you'd be slow and stupid and poor, and have all that horrid red hair."

Ron frowned down at himself. "I know you thought that. You made it obvious enough the day we met."

"Well. I'm my father's son, Ron, and I didn't know any better then."

Ron's eyes were on the frayed cuffs of his slacks, his worn hand-me-down robe. "I suppose it wasn't all false, though, was it?"

Draco bit back a grin. He sat up, making his eyes wide and earnest. "Ron. Listen to me. It isn't true, any of it. I mean, maybe you are poor, but it isn't as if that's your fault. And I don't think you're all that slow or stupid. You do all right in class, when you do the work at all."

Ron smiled at that faintly.

Draco lifted his hand from Ron's arm. He tentatively sifted his hands through red hair, musing, "And your hair is red, true, but it certainly isn't horrid. In fact, it's sort of…" He met Ron's wide eyes, dropped his hand suddenly and looked away. "Well. Anyway, I'm sorry you think those awful things are true. And I'm sorry I was one of the ones who made you go on feeling that way. You're not that at all, Ron. You're not like they…you're special."

Ron's eyes came up, wide and round. "Do you think so?" His voice was hushed.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Well, yes. Of course. Surely someone's said that to you before. One of your friends, at least?"

Ron shook his head silently. He looked almost awed.

Draco frowned. "They know, though. They must. I've only talked to you for a little while. They've known you for over a year now. They have to see how wonderful you are."

Ron breathed in sharply. "Wond…" He swallowed.

Draco looked down. "Yes. I mean…I probably shouldn't be talking like this. We're enemies, after all. But I feel bad for you now, knowing they don't see what I see. Though I guess Potter has his game and Hermione has her studies, and maybe they think those are more important."

Ron's eyes drifted to the wall. He was frowning to himself.

Draco shut up then. Best not to go too far in one day. "I should be getting back. With our luck all of Gryffindor will storm in here wanting to rescue you from my clutches." He grinned as he stood up, and held his hand out.

This time Ron took it without hesitating and let Draco help him stand. "This is…I mean, can we talk again?"

"Of course. Anytime you'd like."

"Draco…?"

"Yes?"

Ron looked at him seriously. "Do you think there's a chance we might be friends? I think I wouldn't mind that so much."

"I…I don't know, Ron. I mean, we can, but…you saw Granger today. I don't think your other friends would like it so much."

"Does that matter?"

Draco studied him. "Doesn't it? 

"What about your friends? Crabbe and Goyle, and the others in Slytherin?"

Draco waved that off. "I don't care what those lunkheads think. I do as I please."

Ron bit at his lip.

Draco touched him on the arm and met his eyes. "You should try it, Ron. Doing as you please. It feels wonderful." He smiled and turned, leaving Ron to think the last minutes over.

He kept smiling even after the door was shut.


	4. Four

"But I don't understand. Why is he being so nice?"

Ron rolled his eyes and pushed his book back. No good pretending he was too busy studying to listen to Hermione. She would never believe it. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

She frowned at him disapprovingly. "It's odd. Don't you think so? If Draco Malfoy is actually being nice, you can bet something mean is going to come of it. I don't like thinking about how this could hurt us."

Ron glanced over at Harry.

Harry just shrugged. "She has a point. He's never been nice, not one time before now." 

"And no one ever expected him to. Because he's a Malfoy. Is that it, Harry? Hermione? It isn't very fair to him to say that. It means he never had any choice but to be wicked. I think it's bollocks."

"Not if it's true."

Ron glared at Hermione now, put off completely. "And what about the rest of it?"

She frowned. "The rest of what?"

"Do you think the same of me? That I must be stupid and dull, that I'll always be some poor miserable lunk just because of my last name?"

She studied him, surprised. "What in the world do you have to do with this? We're not talking about you."

"Yes, you are! It's all the same, don't you see?"

Harry spoke up, his voice soft. "Ron, what do you mean?"

"I mean, maybe there isn't anything so bad about all this. Maybe he's being nice because he's tired of everyone hating him. Maybe he's lonely. Maybe he wants to be more than some Malfoy bully. Is that so hard to believe?"

"And why would he have gone to you, if that's what he wanted? Why wouldn't he have gone to Harry?"

Ron stared at Hermione for a moment, and he repeated her question to himself.

Draco's voice appeared in his head. Asking in such surprise if none of his friends had ever told him he was special. 

He blinked at Hermione in realization.

Of course they hadn't. Why would they, when they didn't even think it themselves? When all they saw when they looked at him was Harry. 

He was hiding under their shadows. Draco had been right all along.

He stood up and shut his Potions book so hard that Hermione jumped a bit. "I'm going to study alone."

"Oh, Ron, honestly."

He bristled at her patronizing tone, and left before she could say anything else.

***

Hermione sat back with a huff of air. "He's such a child sometimes. Really."

Beside her, Harry watched Ron go. His brow creased in concern. After a moment his gaze moved to Hermione. "Why would Draco come to me instead of Ron?"

She turned her frown on him. "Isn't it obvious? You're the one he's been so cruel to since last year. If he really wanted to make up for those awful things he's done, he would have come to you. Not Ron."

"He hasn't been exactly nice to Ron either."

"Don't tell me you believe this nonsense about Malfoy going good for no reason?"

"Well. No. But what could he be trying to do? Is he trying to turn Ron against us?"

"That's ridiculous."

Harry nodded to the empty chair where Ron was usually always sitting. "It seems that that's what he's doing, whether he wants to or not. He's got Ron behaving oddly, doesn't he?"

Hermione frowned after Ron. "Maybe we should have a talk with Malfoy."

Harry stood up. "Good idea."

She frowned after him. "I didn't mean right now."

He kept walking.

"What about our studies?"

That argument had its usual affect.

She sighed and shut her book and started after him.

***

Draco rolled his eyes and held up a hand.

Instantly, the two whining voices that had greeted his return to the Slytherin common room silenced. 

"Crabbe. Goyle. Sit."

They sat.

He moved to his usual armchair in front of them and calmly sat himself. "Now. I think you two were saying something? Questioning my actions, it sounded like." He lowered his voice. "Feel free to continue."

There was silence. 

Crabbe glanced at Goyle, and then braved a response. "It's just…you keep being spotted with that Weasel, and you're not here hardly ever anymore, and…we were just wondering is all. We weren't questioning you or anything. Just wondering."

"Oh, I see. Wondering." Draco smiled.

Crabbe shrank back a little. 

"Well, my boys, you can go right on wondering. What I do is my own business."

"You're not going soft on the Weasel, are you?"

Draco moved a hand to his wand, raising his eyebrows.

"Sorry. I withdraw the question."

The door into the common room opened again, and Pansy Parkinson came in, all smirks. "Draco."

"Pansy."

"There's some visitors out there looking or you." She gestured back towards the door. "Don't seem to want to come in here, for some reason."

"Who is it?" He already half-knew.

Her eyebrows were raised. "Potter. Granger. They seem a bit put out with you."

Draco grinned. His little Ron must have done some more sticking up for himself, and now they were in a snit. 

He stood up and glanced at Goyle and Crabbe. "Come see what my going soft, as you put it, gets me."

They followed dutifully.

Sure enough, waiting right outside the door to Slytherin's dormitories, stood Harry Potter looking almost nervous, and Granger with her arms folded and her jaw set. 

Draco glanced back at his to lackeys, meeting their eyes and motioning for them to keep their mouths shut. And then he turned his pleasant, if fake, smile to the two Gryffindors. "Afternoon."

"Malfoy." Potter nodded at him and looked back at his two followers.

"I heard you were looking for me. What can I do for you?"

"Leave Ron alone."

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Leave him alone? Am I bothering him?"

Granger opened her mouth to retort, then hesitated. "Well. Not exactly. You're bothering us."

"You? I haven't done anything to you."

She hesitated again, brow furrowing.

Potter stepped up then. His voice was, typically, quiet and level. "What are you doing with him?"

"What do you mean? Has he complained about me?"

"No. And he won't. You're too smart for that, Malfoy."

Draco raised his voice, addressing his two fellow Slytherin without looking back. "You see? This is what kindness gets you. Suspicion and persecution. Even from the sainted Harry Potter."

Potter frowned. "Come off it, Malfoy. We all know that you aren't simply being nice to Ron. I won't let you hurt him."

"You have no say in what I do with him, Potter."

"Yes, I do. He's my best friend."

Draco smirked. "Are you so sure? Does he still think so?"

Potter hesitated at that, looking for a moment uncertain.

Draco nearly laughed. "Admit it, Potter. I'm doing nothing wrong, and you just can't handle it."

"You'll slip up somewhere," Granger put in, having found her voice again. "And we'll be right there when you do."

"Watch him as closely as you like, Potter." Draco, always aware of who his only real threat was, didn't bother even looking at Granger. "You might do more harm than me in the end."

Potter frowned, but didn't have an answer.

***

Ron was surprised by a voice as he walked down the hall towards class. 

"Ron?"

He stopped and looked around, and saw the door to an empty classroom opened a crack. Silver eyes peered out. 

Ron smiled instantly and went over. "What are you doing in there? Hiding?"

Draco opened the door and pulled him in. He shut the door fast, leaving them in almost darkness. "It's ridiculous, isn't it? But…you know your friends came to see me yesterday."

"Harry and Hermione? Really?"

Draco nodded. He looked amused, but there was that same hurt glittering deep in his eyes. "They pulled me out of our common room and talked to me about you."

Ron's eyebrows flew up. "What did they say?"

Draco shrugged. "Some nonsense about how I must be bothering you, and they won't allow it. Quite surprised me, actually. You'd think they didn't want you to have any friends at all besides them."

"No. No, not…well, I was rather upset with them yesterday. It might have got them worrying."

"Upset? By that do you mean you actually stood up to them for once?" Draco's voice had sudden anger in it.

Ron frowned at him. 

He sighed, looking back towards the door as if someone could sneak in without them noticing. "It just bothers me so much, the way they treat you. Especially now. It's…it's almost like I treat my own friends, which is bad enough in itself. But Crabbe and Goyle are brainless, really, and they don't know what to do with themselves if I'm not there to tell them. You…you're different."

"So is Harry. He isn't like that, really."

"No? Then why would he have threatened me the way he did? Just because I'm trying to be your friend."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sorry they did that. I'll have to say something to them about it. It's a load of nonsense, really, this whole war between you and Harry. You'd think he'd have gotten over it first year."

"Well, he hasn't." Draco sighed. "But, like I said before -- I do as I please, Ron. Not even Harry Potter is going to put a stop to that. I just don't want him making things hard for you."

"Don't worry about me." Ron straightened up, his chin out. "No one can tell me not to become friends with whoever I want."

Draco grinned. "Good. You're starting to learn." He punched Ron's arm lightly. "I'm proud of you."

Ron grinned, blushing. He looked down, then up at Draco's face, then swallowed and darted in quick.

Not sure why he was daring, he pressed his lips against Draco's quickly, then pulled back and stared at his feet.

Draco touched his lips in surprise, a smile breaking out under his fingers. "What was that for?"

"For…I don't know. For everything. I should go." He stumbled a little over his feet as he turned, and headed out the door. 

His heart was beating oddly fast as he hurried down the hall to the class he was already late for. His mouth stretched in a big grin against his will, and he felt almost giddy. 

Strange, that. But he didn't bother thinking about it too hard.

***

"And if you really concentrate, the very first card you touch should be the answer to the question you asked the deck. All it needs is a little interpretation."

Harry glanced over at Ron, his eyebrows raised. "And a lot of imagination."

Ron looked back at him. "Hmm?"

"Nothing." Harry sighed as if put out.

Ron rolled his eyes and nudged him. "Don't go getting upset. You know how hard it is to pay attention in here."

Harry made a sound of agreement. With the temperature hot enough to make anyone feel lazy, the perfumed air, the cushioned seats, it was more than easy to slip into a doze and ignore everything. 

"Alright, class. Each of you and your partners ask the Tarot a question and choose a card. I want you to discuss it with each other and write out a summary of what you saw and what you learned about yourselves."

"What? Card? What is she talking about?"

Harry laughed as he grabbed the large colorful cards sitting on the table between them. "You really weren't listening, were you?"

"Not a bit."

"Not thinking of Malfoy again, were you?" Harry grinned.

To his surprise, Ron broke into a flush. "Sort of."

Harry stared at him in surprise, but took pity on his embarrassment and held the deck out. "Pick a card and let's just make something up."

Ron reached out gratefully and grabbed one of the cards. He flipped it onto the desk.

There was a young witch and wizard on the card, holding hands and whispering to each other. The needlessly flowery scrawl at the bottom of the card said Lovers.

Harry burst into laughter, but forced it down fast before Trelawney could go back there and disapprove off him some more. "First it's some boy with flowers and you getting your heart broken, now this. And you were thinking of Malfoy?" He snickered.

Ron turned even darker red and shoved the card back to Harry. "It's a load of nonsense anyway."

"Are you sure? I'd watch out and make sure Draco Malfoy never gives you a bouquet." Harry grinned.

Ron just looked away from him. "Your turn."

Harry kept snickering to himself as he reached out and pulled a card.

He rolled his eyes instantly and threw it down on the table. There was a creature on it that looked like a skeleton with a scythe. And the word on his was, he should have guessed, Death.

He looked over to the front of the classroom.

Trelawney was looking right back at him. She nodded solemnly, as if aware of everything that was going on.

Harry groaned to himself and stuck the card back in the deck. "I hate this class."

Ron stayed quiet.

***

"Over here."

Ron smiled and followed the whisper to the line of trees that led into the Dark Woods. "Braving the woods just for me?"

Draco shrugged. He actually looked pretty comfortable sitting against the trunk of a tree. "No one will bother us, at least."

"That's true. Unless Hagrid comes out at all." Ron nodded to the light down a ways and past the trees that signified Hagrid's little house. 

"I'm sure we can avoid him if we have to." Draco's tone was less than complimentary.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Hagrid is my friend."

Draco held up a hand. "Sorry. I'm still learning this whole 'nice' thing."

Ron forgave him, of course. Considering what Draco was fighting against -- things he'd been taught his entire life -- he was doing a splendid job so far. "You don't have to be nice if you don't want to. Just don't be mean. Not about my friends."

"Not nice and not mean. What am I supposed to be?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Just don't mention them at all."

Draco studied him.

Ron sighed. "I'd rather not fight you about them. I spend enough time fighting them about you."

Draco tilted his head a little, at the same time patting the ground beside him in invitation. "So why are you doing this, Ron? Why bother with me at all if it gets you into trouble with your friends?"

"Because. I like you. I mean, I like you now. And you were right when you said they wouldn't have given you a chance. I don't know why they don't understand."

"Because they can't." Draco shrugged.

Ron sat down slowly, still confused.

Draco faced him. "You and I are the same, Ron. We're both products of our families. We've both got reputations that precede us everywhere we go. People know just by looking at us who our fathers are, and from that they know exactly how we're going to behave. You're giving me a chance because you know what it's like to be me, sort of."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "You think we have anything else in common?"

Draco's mouth shut. He looked confused.

Ron grinned. "Come on. We're the same age, we're both boys. There has to be other things besides this grim sons-of-our-fathers bit."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you serious? I mean…what do you and Crabbe and Goyle talk about?"

Draco seemed genuinely confused. "We…we talk about…" 

"Oh, let me guess. Harry."

Draco shrugged. "They're not the best conversationalists."

"How do you survive? Draco, whether you're a Malfoy or not, you're still just a dumb kid like the rest of us. Do you ever have fun?"

Draco's expression clearly broadcast the answer.

Ron laughed. "Alright. So maybe that's what I'm doing here. I have to show you how to have a little fun. Fun that doesn't involve humiliating someone else, at any rate."

Draco's eyebrows raised. "Is that possible?"

"Believe it or not." Ron grinned suddenly and wagged his eyebrows the way Draco had during their first little talk. "Got any ideas?"

Draco laughed, and then looked surprised at himself. "I see."

Ron shrugged, feeling the blush covering his face. "If you'd rather, we could sit here and talk about the quality of food at the school, or take bets on whether McGonagall was ever actually a kid, or just appeared out of nowhere one day with her hair already in that death bun of hers."

Draco chuckled again, then leaned back against the tree and smiled at Ron.

Ron couldn't help but catch his breath at the look.

Draco was…well, Ron didn't think about it much, but he supposed Draco was handsome enough. His eyes really were striking, light-colored and wide when they weren't narrowed in anger or creased in a smirk. His hair was a brilliant shade of blond, nearly white. 

And right then, when he wasn't making any of his usual faces or holding himself up proud and stiff, he actually looked like a human twelve-year-old boy.

Which made him even more attractive. 

Ron scooted closer to him a little, until their arms were brushing. "Getting chilly."

"Uh huh." Draco grinned, not buying the excuse for a moment. "You're not exactly subtle, are you?"

Ron laughed. "Would you like me to be more romantic or something?" He laid his head on Draco's shoulder and grabbed his hand and heaved a great big sigh. "Oh, the stars are so lovely tonight," he said in a breathy and high-pitched voice. "I wish this moment could last forever."

Draco lifted his shoulder, pushing Ron off. He was laughing quietly. "I think it's safe to say I have no need for romance."

Ron looked down at where their hands were still joined. His heart beat a little faster when he realized that Draco had no intention of letting him go, no matter what he said.

He squeezed Draco's hand and pushed himself up, twisting around. "Then how about I try just being straight to the point?" He leaned in and touched his lips to Draco's quickly.

Draco met his eye when he pulled back. "Like that, do you?"

Ron shrugged, feeling the heat of a blush all over his face. "It's something to do."

Draco tugged at his hand, pulling him back. He tilted up, but stopped a couple of inches from Ron's mouth and grinned. "I am definitely not being my father's son right at this moment."

Ron felt the breath of his words and shivered in excitement. "That's why I'm here," he replied softly.

Draco pulled him in, and they didn't talk again for a while.

***

Draco whistled to himself, in a surprisingly good mood as he put the finishing touches on the card and fastened it around the leg of his owl. 

He hadn't predicted the stage he had gotten to with Weasley. He had never thought about lying on the ground in the woods at night and kissing until his lips felt strange and swollen.

He wasn't too sure how he felt about it now. This was definitely going differently then he had expected. But not badly. Not at all.

He smiled to himself and ignored the furrowed looks of his friends as he headed to the window to send the owl on its way.

***

Ron was surprised at the appearance of an owl over his head as he walked from his latest stint of detention behind the school building. It wasn't time for mail, yet there the owl was. It was a beautiful bird, too, black and graceful.

It swooped down to him in slow, deliberate circles. Its eyes were oddly light, its feathers sleek. 

Ron didn't have to wonder whose owl this was. It reminded him of Draco in a lot of ways.

He reached up and tugged down the message on the owl's leg, and reached into his pocket. There were some crumbled biscuits he'd been saving from lunch, and he stretched them out as a treat.

The owl regarded the bits of bread, as if considering, then swooped down and pecked at the offering. 

Just like Draco, Ron thought with a silly grin. It looked sleek and a little dangerous, but it took the biscuit without even nipping Ron's fingers.

He watched it fly away and turned his attention to the letter.

Come to the stairs where we talked last week.

That was it. No signature, no time. Just that.

Ron tucked the letter into his robe and changed direction, going towards the empty Quidditch field.

Before he could get there, he spotted the familiar, thin, loping forms of his brothers walking side by side with matching strides. 

He didn't bother waving -- they were headed right for him. "George. Fred."

"Ron." George seemed oddly serious.

His twin shared the expression. "We've just come from Harry."

Ron rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Don't tell me!"

"He says you've been hanging around with Slytherin."

"That true?"

Ron sighed and moved past them, not surprised at all when they followed, one on each side. "No, it isn't. I'm not friends with the whole bloody house or anything."

"Well, good. 'Cause I don't mind telling you--"

"Just Draco," Ron finished, cutting off George or Fred in mid-sentence without looking at them. 

His brothers stopped moving for a moment, and then caught up to him as he kept going. "Ron! Are you mad?"

"I'm getting there fast, with so many people interrogating me everywhere I go."

A hand on Ron's arm stopped him, and he turned with a frown to face his brothers. "Don't you two have toilets you should be hexing or something?"

"After what he's done to you and your friends? What he says about our whole family? Suddenly you want to be friends with the little creep?"

"He's not like that, okay? He was his father's son back then. He's different now." Ron spoke the words confidently -- after all, Draco had spoken them himself, more or less.

"Different? How different could he be? It was only last week he threatened to flush Ginny down into the sewers to live with the other rats. Your own little sister, Ron."

"Well. Can you blame him?"

They gaped at him with matching expressions.

Ron blew out his breath. "Look, Draco wasn't very nice to us at first, that's true. But we never gave him a chance to change at all, did we? No one in Gryffindor, in my family, has ever given him a reason to be nice. I'll bet even Ginny knew to hate him when she got here, without really knowing why."

"Because he's Draco Malfoy!" Fred threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't believe what I'm hearing from you!"

Ron turned and started walking again. "I have somewhere to be, boys. If Harry is so worried that he's talking to you, then maybe you should pass word along that he might do more good talking to me."

***

Draco wasn't by the stairs of the stands in the Quidditch field.

For a few moments Ron cursed his brothers for making him late, and making him miss whatever Draco had planned.

But then he saw it.

In the corner, in the shadows. A box, gift-wrapped and waiting. 

He picked it up carefully with a smile, and looked for a long time at the little card attached. It simply said Ron in little golden letters. 

He studied the box. The paper around it was plain and brown. It was as big as a couple of Hermione's 'light reading' books, but light.

He moved to the stairs and sat. His fingers peeled at the paper almost gingerly, as if it was delicate.

There was an odd thrum in the air, or in his chest, he couldn't tell. He was excited, and more than a little curious.

But he never would have guessed what was actually in the box.

His brow furrowed as he pulled out a robe. A black robe, like all the students wore. It had Gryffindor's patch on the front.

He checked the label inside with a frown, and his eyes grew as he saw his own name there.

He moved the box off his lap and pulled the robe out, holding it up.

It was…it was just a robe. Dark black and faintly shimmering and new and heavy and…

He stood up, his mind blank, and pulled off his old robe, dropping the worn, tattered thing to the ground. And he pulled the new one around his shoulders, wondering…

It fit. Perfectly. It hung off him and just barely touched the floor, the way they were supposed to. It was heavy, but didn't feel hot. 

A robe. He never would have expected…

"It was a dumb idea, I guess. But…"

He turned around in surprise and saw Draco's eyes glittering from the shadows. 

Draco shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I just wanted to get you something."

Ron swallowed, looking down at his gift. "I…Draco, my family may not have any money, but we don't…I don't need people buying my things for me."

Draco looked surprised. He came forward, stepping into a lighter patch. "No. That's not it, not at all. I just thought you deserved something of your own. Something without your brothers all over it already. Something that's just for you."

Ron looked down again, his eyes going from the deep black of the robe he had on to the tattered, faded, almost gray heap of cloth on the ground. Bill had worn that robe for all his year at Hogwarts, and their father before that. Before that, he wasn't sure. Maybe his father had actually got it new. Most likely it belonged to an uncle or grandfather. It was too short for Ron, too cold in the winter. 

This, the one he had on now, it was…

His fingers went over it, feeling the softness of the fabric. 

Draco moved closer to him, but stopped when Ron looked up. "It's…I'm sorry if I offended you or anything."

Ron shook his head. It was a touchy subject with him, usually, and that was one of the biggest reasons why he had hated Draco so much last year. Draco had never passed up an opportunity to rub Ron's poverty in his face. 

But this was different. Very different, and Ron could feel that. He looked back down at the robe and kept smoothing it with his fingers, marveling at what it felt like. 'Something that's just for you,' Draco had said. 

He sniffed a little, feeling horribly emotional for some strange reason. "I've never had anything that's just for me before."

And it was true, wasn't it? Even beyond clothes and wands and all that, he had never really had anything that wasn't used by someone else. It was such a stupid thing to get teary about, but there he was. He had the horrible feeling that he might cry like some girl over it. 

"Then it wasn't a dumb idea?" Draco moved to his side, smiling almost shyly. 

Ron shook his head, sniffling again and willing himself not to cry. "Thank you."

Draco smiled. "I was going to try for a wand, since yours is broken, but they're awfully hard to get smuggled into this school. Besides, I wouldn't know which kind to get for you."

"No. I mean, this is…perfect." And the coloring on the patch was golden and bright, and not even Percy's new one had been this nice. Not nearly. 

Such a stupid thing to get emotional…

"Hey now." Draco's hand came up suddenly and wiped at his face. His fingers came back wet. "It isn't worth all that. Just a robe."

Ron laughed, swiping at his eyes with his arm. "I'm sorry, I'm being stupid."

Draco studied him, then smiled without an ounce of malice or amusement. "I'd say it suits you though. You look splendid, and I hope you won't mind if I get you something for Christmas as well. I've never tried this whole gift-giving thing. It's rather nice."

Ron laughed again, blinking to clear away the last of the moisture. "I'm not sure what I could ever get you in return, though."

Draco stared at him, his eyes wider than usual. "Just…just keep smiling like that. That's more than enough."

Ron grinned self-consciously, and reached out to his friend. "Thanks," he said again, quiet. "Really. It's wonderful." He flushed a little, but kept going. "You're wonderful."

Draco smiled widely. "Careful how loud you say that, Ron. Anyone going by might think you were actually starting to like me."

Ron grabbed his shirt and pulled him in and kissed him hard.

Draco made a small noise of surprise, but didn't try to stop it. When Ron pulled back, Draco licked his lips and got his breath and pulled him right back in.

Ron made his own little noise at that, and as the moments ticked by and Draco didn't let him go, he settled himself against the shorter boy's body and lifted his arms to fold around Draco.

And it was just like the night in the woods. Exciting and a little bit wrong maybe and he felt right then like he really was special and wonderful and all of that.

Draco pulled back only a little and looked into Ron's eyes. "Is…is this alright? What we're doing?"

"I don't know," Ron answered honestly, but his heart was going fast and he felt all warm from more than the new robe, and he didn't wait but a second before tugging Draco close once again. 


	5. Five

Harry's mouth opened, but the question he wanted to ask right off didn't come out. He thought better of it, and let Ron take his seat there at Gryffindor's long dinner table without saying anything.

But he wasn't the only one with questions. Hermione stared at Ron, then glanced over at Harry with her eyebrows up.

Harry shrugged and looked to Ron.

It wasn't just the new robe, though that was obvious. Ron hadn't mentioned anything about a new robe, and the way his brothers were all watching him in surprise, it hadn't been a gift from the family. 

But it wasn't only that. Ron was red-faced and smiling as if he just couldn't stop himself. He didn't look at any of them, just sat down and sighed, playing with a fork absently.

Harry couldn't help it -- he looked back behind him towards Slytherin's table.

Draco sat there as usual, between Crabbe and Goyle. He looked a little bit red himself, but otherwise he looked the same as ever. His eyes didn't go to Harry or his table at all, and he seemed his usual composed and smug self. 

Harry frowned at him, then looked back at Ron. 

Someone was going to mention the robe -- it as too easy to spot, too odd a thing for the littlest Weasley brother to be wearing. Harry just hoped Ron reacted well.

It was Ginny, finally, who broke the silence. Distracted as she had been with her friends when Ron had come in, once the meal was going she spotted him sitting there and shot up. "Ron! Goodness, where on earth did you get that?"

Harry's eyes went to Ron instantly, not wanting to miss anything.

But Ron didn't do anything too suspicious. Didn't automatically look over at Slytherin's table or blow Draco a kiss or anything ridiculous like that. 

He just grinned at his sister and shrugged the robe tighter over his shoulders. "Get what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ron. You know very well what I'm talking about."

He blinked innocent eyes at her. "Do I?"

She turned to Harry pointedly. "Make him talk."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

There was something in Ron's gaze, something challenging. Something that Harry didn't exactly like seeing there. 

Ron spoke softly, and Harry's suspicion was confirmed. "Harry isn't going to make me do anything I don't want to do."

Harry definitely saw the challenge now. He'd be surprised if anyone there missed it. "Of course not. But I do wonder why you suddenly can't answer a simple question in front of your own friends."

Ron smirked. 

Harry breathed in quietly. Ron suddenly looked more Malfoy than Weasley. Or was he being paranoid? 

"You don't really need me to answer anything. I'm sure there's someone you can go threaten to get the answers, isn't there?" Ron's gaze was steady.

"Probably, but I wouldn't do that unless I had some reason to think you were in trouble."

"And maybe you should let me decide for myself what trouble is."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione put in suddenly. "You seem to have a hard time recognizing it these days, don't you?"

Neither of them bothered turning to her. Harry studied his friend, and it suddenly hit him that this might be a more important conversation than he thought.

Maybe things had gotten so out of hand so fast that Ron was seriously questioning Harry and their friendship.

When had that happened?

He had to resist looking back at Slytherin table. He knew almost certainly that if Draco's eyes weren't on them before, they were now. As if he knew what was happening. 

Harry swallowed back a sudden sadness. He wasn't about to let Ron go without a fight, that was for sure. Even if the fight was with Ron himself. "Is it so strange that we worry about you?"

"I don't suppose so. But it is strange that you obviously don't trust me to make my own decisions."

"I trust you completely." Harry spoke nothing but the truth. "But I don't trust Draco Malfoy, and I won't. It has nothing to do with you."

Ron sat up. "It does. Draco is my friend."

There were a few surprised whispers from those around them watching the unexpected confrontation. 

Harry shook his head sadly. "Draco isn't anyone's friend, Ron. I don't know why he's doing this, but I know he's going to hurt you for trusting him."

Ron's lips tightened and pressed together, and he stood up suddenly.

Harry stood an instant later. "Ron, please. Don't--"

"Harry." Ron was the one who now seemed sad. "I'll see you later." He stepped around his chair and left the dining hall. 

Harry glanced towards the professors' table, but none of them even seemed to notice Ron go.

Harry hesitated only for an instant; only long enough to spare a hard look back at a smirking Malfoy, before going after Ron himself.

***

Draco debated with himself for a few moments. 

Deciding finally that whatever happened would be too good to miss, he stood and slipped away from the table while Crabbe and Goyle were arguing over a tongue-tying spell.

He noticed the professors were pointedly ignoring what was going on, and he wondered. Old Dumbledore didn't miss much of anything. Maybe they were waiting around to see what happened.

Interesting.

He left the dining hall and slipped into the hallway, and heard their voices before he saw them.

"--not even once occurred to you that he might just want to be my friend, has it? That maybe someone else might actually like the poor stupid Weasley brat."

"Ron, you know that's ridiculous." Potter was starting to sound a little worried.

Draco peered around the corner and saw Ron's face, red and angry, facing him. He ducked back.

"Is it? 'Why would he come to you, then? Why wouldn't he go to Harry?' That's what Hermione said. You're both so shocked that someone might actually want to get to know me without being interested in the great Harry Potter."

"You know I don't think that, Ron. I don't think of myself like that."

"But you have been. This whole time, it's 'what's he planning? How's he going to hurt us?'" 

"Not us. You. This isn't about me. Not at all."

"Isn't it?" 

They both turned as Draco spoke, and he slid from around the corner and smiled encouragingly at Ron before turning his eyes to Potter. "That's not what you said the other day."

Potter turned red with anger, as if he knew what was coming.

Draco met his eyes evenly. "Or did I hear you wrong? You said you knew I was making some play to get to you through him, and you wouldn't let me. You told me I was only using Ron because of you."

"You're lying!" Potter's voice was near a shout, full of the indignation of the innocent. 

Draco shook his head, and let some of his sincere hatred of Potter come back out of hiding. "You treat him like a pet or something, and now you're angry at me for making him see that."

"Never. I never…he's my friend. He's always been…" Potter turned wide eyes to Ron, going instantly from anger to near-tears. "Ron, please."

Ron stared at him, then nodded back towards Draco. "Is that true?"

Potter answered quietly. "You have to ask?"

Ron swallowed, and Draco could see the anger in his eyes wavering. 

"Can't give him a straight answer, Potter?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

Draco turned victorious eyes to Ron. "Crabbe and Goyle were right there. They can tell you themselves if you don't believe me."

"Crabbe and Goyle," Potter retorted without looking at Draco, "would agree with anything you said."

Ron looked back and forth between both of them. 

Draco kept smiling easily. "If it's to be my word against yours, Potter, than I guess you have the advantage, don't you? No one would listen to me with you around."

Potter turned at that, glaring. "And why do you think that is? Because you're a liar and a bully and you treat people like dirt."

"And the moment I don't, you come after me and try and make me fight again. Why is that? Maybe there's no Harry Potter at all without a Draco Malfoy to fight with."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? You can't be all grand and heroic if you don't have an enemy, can you?"

"You're twisting everything around, like always."

"Are you so sure?"

Potter hesitated, frowning at him with a severe furrow in his brow.

In the pause that followed there was silence around them. Too much silence. 

Draco looked away from Potter and cursed to himself. 

Potter turned around at that and saw, too -- Ron was nowhere in sight. He must have taken off while they were arguing. 

Potter tensed, then whirled back to face Draco. "There, you see. You can drop the act. He's not here for you to fool any longer."

But Draco wasn't so sure. Ron could be right around the corner. Besides, there was fun in making Potter doubt himself a little. "I should say the same to you."

"Come off it, Malfoy!"

Draco moved in a step and lowered his voice. "I won't let you take him from me, Potter. He's the first good thing I've ever found for myself."

And there it was, that confused look that said Potter was considering believing him.

Satisfied, Draco spun on his heel and tromped back to the dining hall. 

***

Harry found Ron on his bed in the dorm, sitting there staring out the window with his brand new robe drawn tight around him.

He approached slowly. "Ron?"

Ron glanced over. There wasn't much to read from his face. "Harry."

Harry sat down on his bed. "Are you terribly angry with me?" 

"Yes," Ron replied easily. "The whole lot of you. And me, too. What a mess it's all turned into."

Harry hummed his agreement and looked out the window at the grounds below. 

"It's strange. You know, I've been thinking about it just now, and it's almost like a game of chess. Except instead of playing, I feel like one of the pieces. And on one side are you and Hermione and my brothers and Ginny and everyone. And on the other side is just Draco. I feel like a piece just getting moved all over the board, but I can't figure out which team I'm on. Like both sides get to move me wherever they want me. Is that ridiculous?"

Harry smiled to himself thinly. "No."

"I'm not sure why Draco's side doesn't get creamed by the other team. He's just Malfoy, after all. A month ago I would have said…but it's different now."

Harry turned to his friend, who seemed awfully pensive and not at all like himself. "Why is it different?" he asked with a sincere desire to know the answer.

Ron turned to him. "He…he said…" He shook his head and sighed. "It's stupid, I guess."

"What?"

Ron met his eyes even while flushing with embarrassment. "He thinks I'm special."

Harry blinked at that, surprised. And then he sighed, sad, because for that to be so important to Ron must mean that Harry had not nearly been a good enough friend. The only problem was if he simply said it now it wouldn't mean anything. So he shook his head in self-reproach. "Oh, Ron."

Ron looked back towards the window. He was still flushed red. "Well. I don't know what it is, really."

"And I don't know what to do about it," Harry responded, frowning. "I don't think there's anything else I can say that you don't know. I don't trust him, and I don't like it. But I do trust you, and I hate that you don't believe that."

"I do. I know you do, Harry. I've said some horrible things lately that aren't true."

"I think I just have to leave you to it. It's hard for me, thinking he might hurt you. But I suppose it's even harder to hurt you myself. So…be friends with whoever you'd like, Ron. Malfoy, even. Just don't stop being friends with me, okay?"

Ron looked to him, eyes wide. "I could hardly do that. You're the best friend I've ever had, Harry."

Harry smiled, letting go of some of the tension he had been carrying around for what felt like weeks. "You, too."

Ron smiled back, but it wasn't near his usual broad and goofy smile that Harry had come to look forward to seeing each day. 

Still, it was something.

***

Draco shifted on his feet defensively. "So. Did Potter get what he wanted? Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

Ron smiled easily, feeling much better about things after his talk with Harry the night before. "Of course not. I told you he wouldn't decide my friends for me, and I meant it. In fact…I only wanted to see you so I could give you something." 

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Ron nodded. He reached into his robe and pulled out an oddly wrapped little misshapen package. He looked down at it for a minute, as if debating, and then stretched it out without looking at Draco. "Here."

Draco took it and unwrapped the paper from it slowly. What emerged turned out to be a small, well-carved chess piece. 

He held it up and looked at it, his brow furrowed.

Ron spoke softly, his voice timid. "It's…she's the queen. She…she's the one everyone's afraid of, right? Because she can move however she wants. Do whatever she wants. But she's the most brilliant piece on the board. She wins or loses the game, really."

Draco looked past the chess piece to where Ron stood fidgeting. He stared at Ron until the other boy cleared his throat and broke the silence again.

"It's from…McGonagall gave it to me last year. Part of her old set. Nicer than mine, and it was only the one piece."

"Because of your chess game. To help Potter stop Quirrell." Draco spoke quietly. He knew the story -- everyone knew the story. But the details were sketchy, and he had never bothered to listen to anyone tell the whole thing properly without ignoring them in disgust. 

Ron nodded. "Anyway," he said quickly. "It's just a stupid little present, that's all. Nothing like this," he touched his robe almost reverently, "but I wanted to give you something."

"I told you you didn't have to."

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." Ron smiled then, shy, and tugged his robe around him. "I'll be late to the library. I'll see you in Potions, Draco."

Draco's eyes went back to the chess piece as Ron left.

He looked at it for a while.

***

Funny how things kept happening that Draco didn't expect.

Unusual. It had to be the change in his routine. Him changing his behavior meant people around him changed theirs as well. But he hadn't taken that into consideration.

"What do you say, Malfoy?"

He looked from Marcus Flint to Crabbe and Goyle behind him, to the few other Slytherins behind them. "I say the lot of you must have forgotten who I am."

Flint sneered. "Oh, please. I think it's you who've forgotten. You think you're dangerous enough to run this house? You thought it as a Firstie, and you think it now. Well, Malfoy, there were times last year when I almost would have let you. You had potential. And now…running around with Potter's leftovers, chatting with Gryffindor in the middle of lunch where everyone can see you, sneaking off to be alone with them…"

Draco glared back at him, cursing in his head. He hadn't taken into account the disadvantages of his public moves on Ron. "Look, Flint. I could care less whether you approve of my behavior or not."

"You make us look bad, Malfoy. You thought we would just stand back and let you?" Flint moved forward slowly.

Like they were attached by invisible strings, the rest of the crowd followed him instantly. 

Draco didn't back up -- couldn't. "What's wrong? Gryffindors laughing at you, Flint? I should think you could handle that on your own, without turning on people in your own house."

Flint narrowed his eyes at Draco. "This isn't about me. This is about this whole house. Bad enough we lost the house cup last year. Bad enough Snape himself is disgusted with us. Bad enough to lose to Potter the first Quidditch game of the year. Now we've got you acting like you'd rather be with them than with us."

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco snapped back.

But they kept moving towards him.

They filled up the hall in front of him -- no escape there. And behind him was the door into Slytherin's common room, where they would just corner him again. 

So he stood his ground. His thoughts flashed suddenly and strangely to Ron the night before, handing over that stupid chess piece. Most dangerous piece on the board, he'd said. Won or lost the game.

Damned right. It was about time these pawns started learning that. 

He put a hand on his wand. "What I do," he said quietly. "And why I do it is my own business."

"Oh no you don't, Malfoy. You pull out that wand and this ends fast."

Draco raised an eyebrow, still cool. "You're forgetting who I am. Who my father is."

Flint snorted a laugh. "We know who your father is. But you, Draco, aren't your father."

Draco smiled slightly. "Do you think so?" There was nothing but cold confidence in his voice.

Flint wavered.

Draco almost laughed at him. How easy it all was.

"Draco?"

Oh, damn.

He looked past the crowd of Slytherin, and could have screamed.

Ron stood there, looking at him through the group. His eyes were glittering unpleasantly. 

Flint instantly got back his courage. "Oh, look boys. Draco's new little pet has come to defend its master. Don't all run at once."

Laughter went through the crowd.

Ron didn't seem to hear it. He pushed past the smaller boys in the back and shocked Crabbe by practically shoving him into the wall to get past. 

Draco wanted to yell at him to get away, to not make this so much bloody worse. But anything he could have said would sound like he was trying to protect Ron, which really would make things worse. So he just watched. 

Ron reached his side and turned to face them grimly. "What's the problem here?"

Flint laughed loudly, genuinely amused. "Draco, do you really need your trained monkey here to protect you?"

Draco shrugged coolly. "I don't remember asking him to come. What he does is none of my business."

Ron glanced over. His eyes were strangely dark, angry. Almost like when Draco was insulting Potter, or attacking the Weasleys. Like he was genuinely angry that they were ganging up on Draco.

Draco spoke before he could stop himself, looking back at Ron. "Though it is a stupid thing to do, and he should probably get away while he can."

Ron just squared his jaw and faced the group of Slytherin.

Stupid git. Draco knew before Flint even said anything that Ron would get just what he wanted -- they wouldn't even look at Draco while there was a Gryffindor there to take care of. 

Flint spoke first. "Crabbe? Would you like a go?"

Crabbe, rubbing the shoulder that had hit the wall first when Ron shoved him, got that stupid blank look on his face that meant he was seeing blood. 

Ron folded his arms across his chest, not showing the least bit of fright. 

Draco almost admired that, though it was the stupidest thing he had ever seen. He couldn't do anything to stop it, either. Anything that didn't look like he wanted Ron to be safe. Which would make this come again, a hundred times worse. 

Or could he? "Crabbe."

Crabbe glanced at him.

"Didn't we talk about this before? Do you have any idea what I do to people who don't let me handle my own messes?"

Crabbe hesitated. He looked over at Flint, then Ron, then back at Draco.

But his fear of Draco, over a year in the making, won out, and he stopped moving. 

Draco smiled grimly and turned to Ron. The pathetic thing was, Ron would probably understand all this later. He'd be all wide-eyed and earnest and say he knew why Draco had to do it to save them both or something. 

But before Draco could make his move to get Ron out of the fight, Flint made his move. Disgusted at Crabbe and Draco, he was by Ron in a moment. "Oh, for Gods sake," he said simply in anger, and then the older boy just grabbed Ron's shirt and threw him back into the crowd of waiting Slytherin. "Someone please take care of this Weasel."

Draco watched Ron disappear into the group. They came to life then, and Draco easily saw the flexing limbs of a fight that Ron couldn't possibly win. 

His heart starting beating faster, and he squared his jaw and turned to Flint.

Flint nodded back at the fighting. "I suppose you want to jump in there and save him, do you?"

Draco smiled. His eyes, he knew, were cold as ice. He radiated nothing but calm and confidence, and that thin smile that Flint wouldn't understand.

Sure enough, as Draco simply held that expression without even looking towards the fight, Flint's own grin faded slowly. He glanced down at Draco's wand, which was untouched. But he still flashed a bit of fear through his eyes as he met Draco's expression.

Draco held his eyes steadily, smiling all the while.

Flint looked away faster than even Draco would have thought. "That's enough," he barked out, anger filling his body. "Let the stupid thing go. Leave Malfoy here to tend his new toy."

Draco watched Flint, satisfied, as he waded in and pulled Goyle off Ron and shoved him off down the corridor. "I said that's enough! Let's go! We've got better things to do than deal with these two."

But Draco had won that little battle, and they both knew it. 

When the little crowd disappeared around a corner, Draco waited. He waited until the sound of them had faded, and then, only then, did he turn to Ron.

Ron at least wasn't just lying there in a heap waiting to get helped. He was pushing himself to his feet, though obviously shaky. There as blood on his face and, Draco noted with something that almost felt like approval, blood on his fists. He had caused damage. 

An arm went to his stomach, and he turned as if it hurt to move. Which Draco imagined was probably the case. He had been a part of some of those beatings, on the other side of course, and knew how his house liked to hurt. 

Ron turned to him, breathing shallowly. 

Draco met his eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn't sure what to do right then. 

Ron dropped his gaze and wiped at his cheek, smearing blood from a deep scratch. "Sorry," he said faintly, his voice thick. He turned and limped off down the hall.

Draco cursed to himself and only let him get a few steps before he was there at Ron's side, lacing an arm around his waist. "Do you have any idea how stupid you are?" he bit out angrily as he helped Ron towards the hospital wing. 

Luckily when they turned that first corner there was no sign of anyone, Slytherin or otherwise.

Ron laughed, and then groaned. "I do now."

"You could have gotten both of us killed, Ron."

"I know."

"They would have killed you and then turned right on me."

"Yeah."

Draco pulled him to a stop and turned him angrily. "What in the world were you thinking, you stupid ponce?"

Ron shrugged, and when he smiled blood came trickling down from his swollen lip. "Couldn't let you face them alone."

Draco growled at that and started marching Ron forward again. "Would have been better if you had. If I had lost with Flint we'd both be a bit worse off now. I don't know how to do things if it isn't just me facing them alone."

Ron laughed again, sounding vacant. "Better learn."

"Why?"

Ron glanced over. "I'm your friend now."

Draco shook his head in frustration. 

But there was something odd about that little moment. Something about Ron, limping and hurt, smiling with blood on his chin and in his teeth, acting all proud or something to have been there to help Draco out. 

Something odd. Something that almost made Draco smile back.

He didn't, of course. He was far too angry at the entire situation. 

But he also stopped berating Ron for being stupid. He led him the rest of the way to Pomfrey without another word.

***

When Draco stepped into the common room, it was with only a mild interest that he looked around for Flint or Crabbe and Goyle.

There they all were, sitting around talking about something stupid. And they all noticed when he came in.

He nodded at Crabbe and Goyle, ignored Flint entirely, and went to his usual spot by the fire to sit.

He didn't watch, but he could practically see in his head the little struggles as Crabbe and Goyle looked between him and Flint. Flint was head of the house, of course, and a seventh year, and a very powerful friend to have.

But Draco was unsurprised to catch movement out of the corner of his eye, and to see Crabbe and Goyle, a moment later, appear in front of him to take their seats with him.

He did glance over after that, and saw Flint heading back towards the dormitories. 

He smiled to himself darkly and faced Crabbe and Goyle. "So. What have I missed?"

***

Ron drank the foul liquid Pomfrey handed him with a grimace, and made a face as he handed the empty glass back. "Really. Do you have to make medicine that tastes that horrid?"

But he was already feeling better as his bruises and cuts instantly started knitting themselves up.

Pomfrey frowned at him sternly. "As often as you're in here, Mr. Weasley, I should think you would be used to it by now."

Ron grinned and laid back. "When can I go?"

"I'm keeping you tonight."

"But why? I'm not hurt bad at all!"

She glared down at him in her disapproving way. "Because keeping you safe here for one night is the only way I can be sure you won't be back in here by the morning with more bruises and scrapes. I swear, Mr. Weasley, I use more of this on you than any other student in school. Even those brothers of yours. Not that they ever learn either…" Still tutting to herself, she moved down the rows of mostly empty beds and shut the door behind her. 

Of course, mere moments after she left she was back, and her frown was even more stern. "Five minutes, Mr. Weasley."

He grinned and nodded.

And there were Harry and Hermione rushing to his side. "Ron, what in the world?"

"We don't see you all day almost and then they tell us you're in here?"

Ron beamed at them. "Who told you?"

Harry frowned at him. "McGonagall."

He was surprised by that. "How in the world did she know? I only just got here minutes ago."

"Ron, what happened? Pomfrey says you're not dying or anything. She did mutter something about you being brain-dead, but I don't think she meant literally."

"It's nothing, Harry. Just a fight. Some crowd from Slytherin."

Hermione frowned severely. "It's dangerous enough you fighting those bullies with us there. You ought not go against them on your own. This could have been much worse."

"I wasn't on my own," Ron reported truthfully enough. "And I walked right into it. So it's my own fault for being stupid."

"Malfoy was involved somehow, wasn't he?" She stared at him pointedly.

Ron answered fast. "I'm sure if he had his way I never would have been there at all."


	6. Six

Draco sighed and rolled over onto his side, staring out at nothing. 

It was dark in the Slytherin dorms. No light seemed to come through from anywhere. But he caught sight of the darker outline of the small trinket that sat on the table by his bed. 

Ron's chess piece.

He wasn't sure why he hung onto it. He should have tossed it out before anyone had a chance to see it. 

Still. Gift from Ron aside, he actually liked it. He liked that someone thought of him when they saw it -- sleek and important and powerful, and the head of the game. And what was it Ron had said? It could move however it wanted. Do whatever it wanted.

Draco had boasted to have that kind of freedom. But it really wasn't true, was it? With Slytherin ready to turn on him if he talked to the wrong sort, and the professors all shielding their precious Potter from him. His father ready to disapprove everything he did.

Draco could do whatever he wanted, unless what he wanted was to be anything but what he was.

Strange. Luckily for him, he had no interest in being some goody-goody Gryffindor licking at Potter's shoes. 

Still. He was angry over his mates from Slytherin cornering him and threatening to hurt him if he kept talking to Ron. 

He could drop Ron on a dime, of course. That had been the plan from the start. He was going to drop him, and he was going to make sure the fall came hard. 

But he wasn't ready yet. And damn them for trying to force him to make his move before he wanted to. He was going to do it right, and make it hurt.

His eyes stayed on the queen, though, shimmering white marble in the darkness. 

And Ron's face, grinning and bloody. Coming to his rescue like Draco had asked him to or something. Like Draco wanted his help. 

Draco wasn't Potter. He didn't need Ron jumping in front of him to shield him from danger. 

But there he'd been, as natural as anything. 

Draco shut his eyes and rolled over the other way. Stupid chess piece. 

Stupid Weasley. 

***

Ron was grinning when Draco grabbed him and swung him bodily into the open door of the same shut-up classroom they'd met in before. 

Draco glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one important was around, and then shut them into the room.

Ron laughed and came to him. "We've really got to stop meeting like this."

"You know any other way to do it?"

Ron leaned over, but hesitated. "You know, Draco…"

"Hmm?" Draco was actually impatient. Not that he enjoyed the foolish kisses or touching of these little encounters. No. The sooner they got to it, the sooner he'd get out. 

Ron hovered inches away, his eyes moving all over Draco's face. "What do you think would happen if I was to come to you in the middle of dinner tonight…" He leaned in and pressed a light, quick kiss on Draco's mouth. "And do that?"

Draco huffed with amusement, even as he protested the briefness of the contact. He grabbed Ron's shirt to make sure he stayed close. "I think neither of us would leave the dining hall alive."

Ron leaned back as Draco tried to pull him in. "It would almost be worth it, though, wouldn't it? Imagine the stares."

Draco pulled him in again, but again Ron drew back, mischief in his eyes. Draco smiled at his stubbornness before remembering that he didn't enjoy this at all. "Potter would probably drop into a dead faint."

Ron laughed quietly, and Draco felt the breath of it on his face. "Crabbe and Goyle would explode, I think. Just combust right there by their plates."

"Would you just get over here?" Draco tugged him in yet again.

Ron obeyed, but still kept himself away by barely an inch. The tip of his nose brushed Draco's, and he moved a hand slowly down Draco's arm. "Someone would actually get the idea you liked me, Malfoy."

Draco gave up, sagging back against the door. He ran his eyes over Ron's lanky form lazily. "Well. Someone would be wrong."

"Oh?" Ron grinned, moving in until he was pressed into Draco, who was pressed into the door. "I don't believe you." 

Draco's response was cut off as Ron finally caught his lips and settled into a warm kiss.

Draco sighed against his mouth, finally relaxing. 

Ron's hands appeared on the door by either side of his head. 

Draco reached up unconsciously and ran a hand up and down his arm, then down his back.

Ron made a muffled sound against his lips, and it felt like he was smiling.

Draco looped his hand around Ron's waist and tugged him harder against him. 

The thought suddenly appeared at the back of his mind -- Ron didn't believe him. When he said someone would be wrong if they thought Draco actually liked Ron. Ron hadn't believed it for a second.

He had done it. Ron had no more doubts, not about Draco. He finally fully believed that Draco was sincere in his feelings.

Draco was done. All that was left was to finish it off. He didn't have to deal with this anymore, this closed-room sneaking around; this kissing and touching that had come out of nowhere. 

He could stop.

Ron's tongue slid between his lips and dipped into his mouth.

Draco pulled him even closer.

***

"Slytherin are all bad, aren't they?"

Harry looked up. "What?"

Ron ignored Hermione's long-suffering sigh that said they were disturbing her reading. He peered thoughtfully at Harry. "Slytherin. It's like a whole house full of mean wizards who may end up going bad someday. And Snape's in charge -- let's face it, he isn't the nicest professor in the school."

Harry nodded slowly. "So?"

"So. It's odd, isn't it? Like the school knows there are all these mean wizards, and doesn't do anything about it. They're practically encouraging it, aren't they?"

Hermione spoke up instantly. "I don't see how putting all the snakes in one house is encouraging anything."

"Well." Ron nodded at Harry. "What if you had ended up in Slytherin?"

Harry shuddered. He still remembered vividly the long minute his first day at Hogwarts when he had pleaded with the sorting hat not to put him into Slytherin.

Ron saw the shudder and waved a hand in triumph. "See? It's as if you knew that if you were in Slytherin, you would go bad. So why would they have a house like that?"

"Harry wouldn't go bad no matter what house he was in," Hermione stated with certainty.

But it was certainty Harry didn't feel himself, so he didn't dismiss Ron that easily.

Ron bit at his lip thoughtfully. "Take Draco for example."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointedly stuck her nose back in her book. 

Ron ignored her. "He's got this awful father and this awful name. His one chance to get away from it, you would think, is going off to school to learn. But they don't bother thinking that they could maybe teach him to be less awful. They just put him in the awful group and let it be."

Harry frowned. "You think Malfoy would be different by now just by being in a different house?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But there's good in him, and he can't show it with those louts he's with all the time in Slytherin. So maybe if he spends all his school years with them he'll learn never to show it at all." He breathed out in a sigh. "Oh, I don't know. They know what they're doing here, after all. But how can anyone expect him to be nice when the professors are practically telling him it's his job to be mean?"

"Maybe…maybe it is."

Ron frowned at that. 

Harry thought back. "That's what the sorting hat is for, right? To see where people really belong."

"And you almost got put into Slytherin," Ron pointed out. "Does that mean you belong there?"

"Of course not," Hermione declared indignantly, before going back to pretending she wasn't listening. 

Ron nodded. "See? Even though you have some of those things that it takes to be in Slytherin, you're still in Gryffindor. And maybe even though he's in Slytherin he has some of the things it takes to be with us. But this house brings out your good side, and that one brings out his bad side."

Harry smiled at that thinly. "Sounds as if you think Malfoy and I really aren't that different."

Ron thought about it, and then nodded. "You really aren't."

"That's a horrible thing to say!" Hermione stopped pretending to be studying long enough to glare at Ron and pat Harry's arm as if to console him.

But Harry knew Ron didn't mean it as an insult. 

Which bothered him a lot more than the remark itself.

***

"You know…"

Draco didn't move from his sprawl on the grass staring up into the high stands of the Quidditch field. "Hmmm?"

Ron moved around beside him, shifting. "Sometimes I listen to my silly little sister and her friends going on about the boys here, and they sigh and coo and talk about stupid things like holding hands and how sweet this or that would be. And a lot of the things they go on about are stuff like this." 

Draco glanced over.

Ron was on his side, head in his hand, looking down at him. "Lying in the grass and watching the clouds. I think you're all romantic inside, Draco."

Draco laughed at that. "Oh, definitely. As romantic as they come." He rolled his eyes and looked back at the sky. "Those stupid girls wouldn't know what to do if they ever found themselves in the grass with some boy."

"And we do? Let's face it, Draco. We're hardly old and experienced ourselves. Now to hear my older brothers talk…" He laughed suddenly. "Well, I don't think I'm anywhere near ready for all that. And it sounds so messy."

Draco glanced over, eyebrows raised. 

Ron waved a hand. "Forget it. Still, there's something to be said for all this, isn't there? This lying in the grass, and the kisses and all that stuff. It's nice."

"Come off it, Ron. Next thing you're really going to start talking like a girl. All flowers and unicorns and love."

"Love." Ron repeated the word thoughtfully. "I suppose we're still too young for it."

Draco humphed his agreement. Stupid, the whole idea.

"I hope when we get older and find out what it really is…well, I hope it's a lot like this."

Draco laughed at that, then frowned and sat up. "Are you serious? You're honestly going to talk about love?"

Ron shrugged. His ears went pink, but that was all the embarrassment he showed. "You don't think this is something like what they mean when they talk about it? You and me here?"

"Ron…" Draco stared at him then got to his feet, suddenly needing a very quick exit away from all this. "I've got to go."

Ron frowned up at him, squinting in the sunlight. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm leaving. See you later."

Ron didn't say anything else, and didn't make a move to go after him.

Still, even though Ron didn't follow, Draco went fast to escape. 

Escape what, he wasn't sure. But it, whatever it was, seemed to be following him all the way into the school and down to his dorms. 

He wasn't sure he'd gotten away quick enough. 

***

Ron sighed and lay back down in the grass. His hands went behind his head, and he looked up at the clouds. 

Draco. There was so much going on in that poor boy's head. More than probably even Draco knew. 

Things were never as simple as they were made out to be. Ron knew that. Nothing was ever cut and dry. And someone like Draco changing his whole attitude one day for no good reason was definitely not as easy as it sounded. 

He supposed that Harry's voice was always in the back of his mind, warning him. Reminding him of the Draco that had tormented them so much already, and the cruelty he was capable of. Telling Ron to watch out. 

Ron knew he should take that advice. Harry was smarter than him, and he definitely knew more about evil people. 

Draco had probably run away from him just then because Ron had gone too far. Bought into the fantasy a little too much. Used a word like love, which scared Draco to death even though Ron hadn't specifically said he was in love with him.

He couldn't say that. Because he wasn't sure. Nothing was so easy as all that. He wasn't sure how Draco really felt, and he certainly wasn't sure how he felt. 

Every time Draco asked Ron why he was trying to be Draco's friend at the risk of angering Harry and Hermione, Ron had never had a decent answer. 

Ron didn't know what to make of anything at all, really. 

He did know that the moment Draco's face had creased in that panicked frown, the moment Draco stood up and left him at almost a run, a deep fear suddenly rose up inside him. His stomach twisted with it, his heart beat a little harder. 

He had the horrible feeling that he'd made the wrong choice in all this. And he wasn't even sure how he felt about that.

***

Draco cursed to himself and everyone he passed, and barked the password at the picture in front of his dorm to get the door open. 

He tromped through the common room, not looking at anyone, and down the hall past his dorm. He glanced in and his eyes instantly caught on that chess piece there by his bed.

He cursed a little louder and kept going, heading for the restrooms. 

When he was washing up he looked at himself in the mirror, needing a bit of confirmation.

Yes, he was still the same. Still Draco Malfoy. There was still that same coldness in his eyes that his father had raised him to have. 

Nothing had changed.

He laughed to himself suddenly, harshly, wondering why something would. 

Just because Ronald bloody Weasley started throwing around stupid ideas about love, that didn't mean anything for Draco.

It meant that this was turning out better than he thought. It meant that when he finished up his plan and told Ron, in front of the whole school hopefully, exactly what he thought of the pathetic Weasel, he would have that much more to laugh at. And Ron would be that much more hurt by it all.

There was no other way to go now, was there? It wasn't as if he wanted to keep spending time with Weasley. It wasn't like he needed to string the boy along and pretend he liked him.

No, he had been in this for one reason and one only. To hurt the boy who could hurt Potter. To get to Potter in a cruel way that no one could really even get back at him for. Potter could never get revenge for something like this.

Because by the time Draco was done, Weasley would be broken. And Potter could try it with Crabbe, Goyle, anyone he liked, and it wouldn't hurt Draco one single ounce. 

He smiled at himself, and the look on his face in the mirror was cruel.

Anyway, it was Weasley's own fault for being such a stupid git. For believing Draco even though every ounce of common sense said not to. Even though his friends told him Draco was lying and playing some trick. 

It was Weasley's fault for those kisses, as well. Draco never thought about trying anything like that with him -- it was Ron. All Ron.

Although…

Well, maybe it had been Draco that started it. But that was different. It was some stupid little peck on the mouth. He just did it because he wasn't sure how else to make his point. Weasley was the one who got insane with it and started groping him in dark corners. 

No. Actually…

But so what? Weasley was the one who had to bring up love, and pretend like this was going somewhere. And there could be no argument for that. Ron was the one enjoying it.

The only enjoyment Draco got out of all this was picturing Ron's face when he finally told him the truth.

It was time to finish this. He was Draco Malfoy, he wasn't some sweet little boy who frolicked in fields with mates holding hands and staring at clouds. He was the son of Lucius Malfoy. He was Slytherin, he was…

He was who he had always been, and there was absolutely no room in that for Ron Weasley. 

No, it was time to finish. To confront Ron, and through him deal a blow to Potter that Potter couldn't fight.

He looked at his reflection again, and was pleased to see the dark look in his eyes, the twist of his mouth that was so much like his father's.

He was going to do this, and he was going to enjoy it.

He turned and left the room, feeling his old self thrumming in him, loud and strong. 

And then he went into his dorm, and Dumbledore was there.

He stopped dead for a minute. Dumbledore was sitting on his bed, and in his hand was the chess piece.

Draco lifted his chin high and set into the room. "Good evening, Professor." His father had reminded him time and again that it didn't pay to be impolite to the most powerful wizard in school, even if he was a Muggle-loving old hack. 

Dumbledore blinked up at him through his spectacles. "Ahh. Mr. Malfoy. Do forgive me, I was taken by this little artifact you've acquired."

"It was a gift," Draco said, almost angrily. Of course Dumbledore would accuse him of stealing it.

"Why, certainly it was," Dumbledore said easily, to Draco's surprise. "Quite a nice one, at that. If I'm not mistaken, this is from McGonagall's set. I believe she told me last year that she gave it to young Ronald Weasley."

Draco moved around the bed to him, and had to resist the urge to pluck it out of his hand. "And he gave it to me."

"I was under the impression, from what the other professors say, that you two don't get along very well."

"We…" Draco pondered his answer. "Well, it was a present anyway. It's mine fair and square."

Dumbledore looked at him sharply, then laughed. "No one's going to take it from you, my boy." He set it down on Draco's bedside table and stood up.

Draco relaxed a little once the piece was out of Dumbledore's hand. 

Dumbledore made his way to the door slowly, then glanced back. "It's an odd sort of present, though, don't you think? Considering what Mr. Weasley had to do to get it?"

Draco glanced over at the small white queen, then back at Dumbledore. "He had to win a game of chess. That's all."

"Why, no, not quite. I believe he had to let the game defeat him."

Draco frowned. "Everyone knows Potter won that game. How else would he--"

"Harry? Yes. But Mr. Weasley wasn't with him in the end. He had to be taken, to be sacrificed to the other team, so that Harry could move on." Dumbledore nodded over at the queen. "And that was the very piece that defeated him."

Draco frowned at his chess piece.

When he turned back to Dumbledore, the doorway was empty. The old man was gone. 

Draco humphed to himself and sat on his bed. He lifted the chess piece and studied it.

Only later did he realize that Dumbledore had never given a reason for being there. Nothing besides talk of the chess queen.


	7. Seven

Harry caught Ron's eyes sidling over to Slytherin's table more than a few times at dinner that night. 

He knew something was bothering his friend. He wasn't saying much, was picking at his food, and he kept looking over as if he expected to see something.

In his ear Hermione was going on and on about what she was learning from some obscure book she'd checked out of the restricted section of the library. Harry nodded now and then and made interested sounds, but he mostly kept his attention on Ron.

"You doing okay there, Ron?" It was Fred who ended up asking.

Ron glanced down the table at his brother. "Huh? Oh, yeah."

Harry could tell easily that he wasn't. Ron was…well, he wasn't exactly a thoughtful person. He was smart enough -- he and Harry got about the same grades the year before. And he was a whiz at chess, which took a lot of brains. But he didn't tend to sit there and lapse into his thoughts the way Harry did a lot of the time. 

Harry met Ron's eyes as he turned away from his brother. 

Ron raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Harry just nodded at him, frowning in response.

Ron shrugged, flashing a small smile to let Harry know that he was alright even if he was a little distracted.

Harry went back to his meal, satisfied. He could always talk to Ron later. Besides, he was trying not to make Ron feel too smothered by his worries -- Draco was getting as much time with Ron lately as he was, and whatever ideas Malfoy would be putting in Ron's head, Harry wasn't about to do anything to make Ron believe them. 

***

Draco stood up, nodded for Crabbe and Goyle to follow. 

Dinner had been uncomfortable. He could feel Ron's eyes on him the entire meal, almost, and to his surprise he actually had to stop himself from looking back and granting him a smile.

No. He didn't have to anymore. He already had Weasley reeled in. 

He could have ended it right there. If he got up and started to leave alone, in the middle of the meal, Ron would have joined him. Put a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was okay.

And Draco could have shoved him off and told him in a very loud, very humiliating way just what he thought of Ron's hands being all over him. Just what he thought of Ron.

But. 

He didn't. He stuck with Crabbe and Goyle and left when everyone else was filing out. 

He did cast a look to where Ron still sat with Potter and his other friends. He could tell Ron was distracted, but he was smiling at whatever one of those idiotic twins was saying.

Draco had to stop himself from smiling again. And that made him angry enough at Weasley and his dumb grins that he turned his back and tromped out as fast as he could, not even making sure Crabbe and Goyle were behind him.

This thing had to end. Tomorrow. 

***

Ron waved at Harry as he flew onto the field. 

Harry saw him and waved back before turning his attention to Oliver Wood and his pre-practice pep talk.

Ron sat back and sighed to himself, enjoying the sun on his face. 

Much better hanging around Harry's practice than sitting with Hermione in the library. At least there was sun, and some good Quidditch, though not as good as a real game.

He supposed he should be more than a little jealous, Harry being the star player and all. Quidditch had always been Ron's favorite sport, and Harry hadn't known a thing about it until even after he got on the team.

Still, it was hard to fault Harry. Despite his fame and money and everything, Harry really only got fun out of Quidditch. And he was good. 

"Still hanging around watching these practices, eh?"

Ron glanced back at Draco. For some reason, he wasn't very surprised to see him there. 

Draco moved alongside the seat Ron was sitting at, but kept his eyes on the field. There was something odd about his expression, something pinched and cool and determined.

Ron had the sudden feeling that he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Kind of pathetic, Weasley."

He noted the use of his last name. "Do you think so?" he asked absently, watching Harry swoop as the team broke their talks to start practice.

Draco nodded out at the field. "Watching your dream go by without being a part of it? Your own brothers up there, your own best friend?" Draco smirked and glanced at Ron. "Even your dreams come secondhand, don't they? You just want the things your family has already done."

"Feels that way sometimes." Ron watched Harry. Harry was still hovering, watching for the snitch, and he was calling something out to Oliver. He looked happy out there. 

Ron kept watching, hoping that maybe Draco would just go away without saying whatever it was he had come up to say.

"Weasley. Stairs. Let's talk for a minute."

Ron shook his head, turning finally to face Draco. "Just do it here."

Draco shrugged and took the seat beside Ron. He then hesitated, actually looking a little surprised. "Do what?"

Ron looked back out at the field. "You need me to tell you?"

"Maybe."

"Alright. You're here now because I actually started to trust you."

"What?"

Ron sighed. "I trust you. I believe what you say. I like you. I really…" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched his best friend. "It's too much for you. So you're here to get rid of me."

Draco frowned at him. 

Ron looked over at him. "Tell me I'm wrong."

It was Draco's turn to look out at the field, to watch the players swooping around. 

Ron smiled to himself. His stomach felt heavy. "You're the one that wanted to talk, Draco. So talk."

"You…" Draco grimaced. "I never asked you to trust me, Weasley."

Ron nodded. "You never did."

"Ron!" Harry swooped over them suddenly. He grinned down, windswept and flushed and obviously happy. So happy that he didn't even mind seeing Draco sitting there. "Wood says we're going for an extra hour today, so I can meet you later!"

Ron waved back without answering.

Harry swept over then back around. There was an edge to his smile. "Hi, Malfoy." With a grin, he flew off.

Draco sat up at that. His jaw tightened, and he got back that cold air he'd had when he first got there. He obviously wasn't pleased with Harry greeting him like he was getting used to him. "I am Draco Malfoy." He spoke softly, almost to himself, then turned to Ron. "My father is…I'm not…you couldn't have believed it all, Ron. Honestly, even you aren't that thick. Everyone knows not to trust me. I wouldn't even trust me."

"I guess I'm not as smart as you."

Draco tensed and stood up suddenly, turning and facing Ron. He folded his arms and stared down at him. "I'm doing you a favor here, Weasley."

Ron laughed. "What? Saving me from your horrible influence?"

"Don't be stupid."

Ron's laughter faded.

Draco smirked down at him. There was nothing but ice in his eyes. "You think you understand, but you obviously don't. One thing you're right about -- I'm ending this ridiculous joke. You did go too far. I was fine stringing you along when it was just fake smiles and stupid platitudes. But everything else? I'm not sick enough to keep it going."

Ron looked away, feeling something inside him start a warm sort of panicky feeling. "Some favor, Malfoy. Thanks."

Draco grinned. "Here's the favor, Weasley -- I'm telling you what I think about you right here, instead of in front of the entire school. I'm not going to bother letting them all know about your embarrassment of a life. They can figure it out on their own. And I'm sure they will."

Ron's eyes went out to the field, where Harry was gliding through the wind gracefully. "He was right." He didn't mean to say it out loud, but…he was stunned. Stupidly enough, he was actually shocked. 

Harry had been right. The whole time. 

Draco followed his gaze to Harry and raised his eyebrows. "He's not as brainless as I would have thought. Though he does consider you a friend, so he's obviously not exactly smart."

Ron looked up at him. He swallowed. "Tell me one thing. Before you start listing all my faults." His voice was surprisingly steady for all that he felt like he had swallowed that melting potion in Snape's class again.

Draco raised an eyebrow and waited. 

"Who were you doing this for? Who were you trying to get to? Harry? My family? Your father?"

Draco laughed. "No one, Weasley. No one at all. I just wanted to see for myself if you could really be as pathetic as you seemed."

Ron nodded. His eyes lowered.

Draco reached out instantly and grabbed his chin, forcing his head back up. "You're even worse. You know that? You're going to sit there and listen to everything I have to say, because you're too miserable a git to get up and leave."

Ron reached up and carefully pried Draco's hand off of him. There was still pride flashing through him. But he didn't get up. 

Draco smirked. "As for listing your faults. I'm not going to waste my breath. You already know what your faults are, don't you? Every single one of them."

"You said…"

Draco laughed. His eyes flashed with more sincere amusement than he had ever showed when being Ron's 'friend'. "If you believed a word I said, that's one more fault you should work on. Get it through your head, Weasley: it was a joke. You're a joke. You're so lost in the shadows of everyone else that you have absolutely nothing to show for yourself." 

Ron flinched, and hated himself for showing that this was hurting.

Draco smiled coldly. "You should remember that, in case anyone else ever tries to convince you to be more than you are. It isn't possible, Weasley. There's nothing there. Even if I had been sincere in wanting to know you, I wouldn't have found a single thing there worth knowing." He laughed suddenly, harshly. "And this."

He reached out and grabbed Ron's chin again. He bent and right there, without even checking who might be watching, he kissed Ron, hard and fast and cruel. He pulled back with a sneer, pushed at Ron's face as he let him go. 

He stayed close, meeting Ron's eyes. And then he laughed softly. "You're disgusting, Weasley. Even now you want more of that. And I can't stomach the feel of you anymore." 

Ron swallowed again and looked away.

But Draco's voice crept in no matter where he looked. "You know what I think, Ron?" He spit out the name like it tasted bad. "I think you honestly love me. Do you?"

Ron bit back any sound in response. His eyes were burning now. He forced his hands into fists, reminding himself that he knew. He knew this would happen.

Didn't he?

Draco sounded practically gleeful even when Ron didn't answer. "I think you do. And that fits, too. You can go through the rest of your life knowing you gave your love to Draco Malfoy, the dirty Slytherin snake. You're second-hand now, Weasley, like everything you own. Except this, of course." Draco's hand snared Ron's robe and tugged it. "Keep that, if you like. A present, like everything else I've done for you."

Ron spoke before he could stop himself. His voice came out soft and weak, no doubt just as Draco expected. "You said I was special." He hated it, the way he sounded as pathetic as Draco thought he was.

Draco laughed. He crouched down, pushing his face in front of Ron's. He spoke firmly and deliberately. "I lied."

And then, mercifully, he stood. "You think about it. See if you don't agree with me next time I tell you what a sad sack you are. I'll see you around, Weasley. If you don't mind, I'm going back to Slytherin house. Have to wash you off me, but at least it's for the last time."

His footsteps carried him away quickly. Ron caught a last slight sound of laughter before he faded away.

He sat there and watched Harry fly, and thought about everything they had said to each other.

***

Draco made his triumphant entrance back into his dorm, looking around contentedly. 

Done. Everything he set out for, he did. And now all that was left was to sit back and watch the fallout. Watch Weasley crawl, and Potter go mad with anger for having no way to stop it. 

He laughed to himself as he went to his bed.

He picked up the queen he hadn't bothered to throw away yet, and he held it up. 

White queen. By all rights, he supposed it should have been the black. Wasn't the bad side always playing black?

Still. He remembered what Dumbledore said and he smiled. 

This was the very piece that defeated Ron before. 

Maybe he would hold on to it. Maybe he would show it off now and then, whenever Ron would be there to see. And they would both know exactly what it meant. 

Dangerous, the queen. Could move however she wanted. Do whatever. Win the game. Destroy all the pawns she had to.

He clenched his fist around it and smiled to himself.

And wondered why the smile felt forced.

***

Harry swooped down to the stands, beaming and holding the snitch lightly in his palm. "Did you see that catch? I think even Wood himself was…" He stopped and looked around.

Ron wasn't there. He and Malfoy were both gone.

But…

He frowned to himself and tucked the snitch into his robe. Practice was just about over, so it wouldn't be released again.

He landed his broom easily in the stands and climbed back a row to where Ron had been sitting. 

His robe was still there. 

Harry picked it up, glancing around in case Ron was still in sight. Then, when he couldn't see his friend, he turned back to the robe. He checked the label to be sure.

Ronald Weasley, in flowing golden script, right there on the inner label. 

Harry frowned to himself.

***

The present. The robe. That beautiful black robe, warm and new and the right size and everything. How it felt, walking around without shame for once because his robe was just the same as everyone else's. Brand new and just for him. All his. 

Draco hated him. The whole time, he hated him. What that gift was was what Ron had fought to avoid his entire life -- a handout that came from someone else's contempt of his life and his family.

He had worn it so proudly. 

He gave Draco one of his most prized possessions -- his chess queen. It had been a present from McGonagall, a gift because he had been brave and smart for one time in his life, and maybe without him the school wouldn't have been saved like it was. 

He loved that queen. Sure, he had a nightmare now and then where he saw it coming at him, towering over him before striking out the blow that knocked him out of the game for good. But still, he loved it. 

He wondered what happened to it. Draco had probably thrown it out with the trash.

And everything else. Everything came to him with such clarity. He could remember entire conversations now. Conversations that would play themselves out time and again in his head, he knew, just to keep reminding him what a bloody great idiot he was. 

The fight he thought he'd been stopping between Draco and those bullies in his house. Was it even a fight? Or had they known he was coming, and Draco wanted a chance to watch him get beaten without abandoning his little game?

His fights with Harry. Draco had come close to making Ron doubt his very best friend. He had accused Harry of things just because Draco told him they were true.

The kisses. 

Ron remembered every one of those. The first couple of little pecks. The one night in the woods, lying in a place just like where he was now sitting. Grass tickling his ears and a root digging into his back, and Draco over him, warm on his face and hot in his mouth, his hands everywhere, uncertain and fun and exciting. 

Disgusting. Draco thought it was -- he was -- disgusting. Draco had gone to his dorms after those nights and scrubbed the feel of Ron off of him. 

Ron had gone back and lay on his bed and shut his eyes, and tried to feel it all over again.

And the very worst. Even worse than the rest of it. 

Draco told him he was special. And he believed it.

Draco had been lying. 

"Ron?"

Draco was lying. Which meant it wasn't the truth. Which left Ron…where?

"Ron?"

He looked up blankly at the sound of his name.

Towering above where he sat, a mountain of hair and beard and cloak looked straight down at him. "Ron Weasley, what on earth are yeh doin' out 'ere?"

Ron tried to smile, but nit was cold out there and his face felt numb. "Hullo, Hagrid."

Hagrid tutted and reached a large arm down to grab Ron and stand him up. "Shouldn't be this near the woods. Yeh know tha'. Let's get yeh back ter the school."

Panic filled him instantly. "No." He dug his feet in and didn't move when Hagrid tugged at him. "No."

Hagrid frowned down at him, baffled. "Is somethin' goin' on?" His eyes instantly went past the tree Ron had been leaning on into the woods beyond. "Harry ain't in them trees now, is he? You two 'aven't been gettin' yourselves into--"

"No. Harry's at school. I left him at practice."

"Oh. Well." Hagrid relaxed, then frowned down at him once more. "Tell yeh what. Why don' we get yeh into my house, and we can 'ave a nice talk about whatever's on yer mind."

Ron relaxed at that, nodding gratefully. "Thanks."

Hagrid smiled down at him, put a huge hand on Ron's shoulder, and steered him off.

***

Harry turned a page in his History of Magic book without even having looked at the last page. His eyes were on the doorway into the common room.

Hermione sighed beside him. In what might have been a first since he'd met her, she sat up suddenly and shut her book before he had a chance to say anything. "I think we should go looking."

Harry frowned. "I looked right after practice. Didn't see him anywhere. Even spotted Malfoy with his bodyguards. He didn't look particularly smug or anything, so I'm not sure at all what might have happened."

"But you're worried." She looked at him pointedly.

Harry waved around at the near-empty common room. "Well, he's not here."

That was a good argument in itself. Ron was always there. Always with one of them, unless he was trying to help Ginny with her studies, or wasting time hanging around Fred and George.

But the Weasleys had come and gone to bed, and there they were. Ron was nowhere to be found. 

And Harry, though it wasn't really his style, was almost ready to go to Dumbledore and report him missing. 

"So what do you want to do, Harry? Sit here all night and wait?"

Good point. Sitting and waiting was definitely not Harry's style. "Alright. Couldn't hurt to look around again."

But before they could get anywhere at all, the door to the dorm swung open and the familiar glass-rimmed eyes of the head of their house appeared. "Mr. Potter. Miss Granger."

"Professor McGonagall." Harry blinked his surprise.

"Come out here and speak to me, please."

Harry swallowed down fear. Ron missing, a surprise visit from McGonagall. Those two things together set his heart racing.

Still, he followed Hermione through the small door and out into the corridor. They faced McGonagall together. 

Her usually stern face creased into a slight smile. "Where were you two rushing off to so late at night, anyway?"

Harry faced her bravely. "Just tell us. Is this about Ron?"

"Mr. Weasley." She sighed to herself. "I thought as much. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I'd like both of you to go to bed. Things are always clearer in the light of day."

"But…Ron."

"I assure you, if Mr. Weasley was in any danger at all, I would tell you. Now please, back to your beds."

They exchanged glances, and Harry shrugged. He should have felt better -- obviously the teachers knew Ron was gone, and knew he wasn't in trouble.

But his stomach still flopped nervously, especially when he crawled into his bed and lay his head on his pillow and saw the one empty bunk in the room framed with moonlight from the window. 

He just wanted to know what in the world was going on.


	8. Eight

Hagrid whistled for Fang, and headed for the door of the small house. Time to start another day.

His eyes went back to the guest he still had with him, and his usual cheer felt a little lacking. 

He actually didn't know Ron Weasley very well. He knew him enough to know that how he was acting now was strange.

He also knew that the poor lad hadn't slept through the night, and hadn't touched any of the breakfast Hagrid gave him. 

He just sat there, looking like he was drowning in his own mind. 

Not a good thing. But Professor Dumbledore said to let him be, and Hagrid certainly wasn't one to go against Professor Dumbledore.

Still. He wondered if maybe Harry shouldn't be brought around to help out. 

But. Ron had asked the night before for Hagrid not to tell Harry where he was. And Hagrid wasn't one to go breaking a promise.

***

"I mean, for him not to be in the dorms to sleep is one thing, but when he's gone from a whole day of class and none of the professors even say anything? Something's definitely going on."

Harry looked around the grounds as they walked, hmming thoughtfully to Hermione's comment. 

It was true -- all day, in all their classes, Ron had been absent. And no one said anything, except the other Gryffindors at lunch when Ron wasn't there either. As if the professors all knew what was going on and knew Ron wouldn't be there. 

Something just didn't make sense. 

It had only been one day, but he as ready to storm Dumbledore's office and find out what as happening.

"Hullo there, Hermione! Harry!"

They turned, and Harry didn't even brighten at the friendly face. "Hullo, Hagrid."

"'ere now, what are yeh all down in the dumps about?" 

"It's Ron, Hagrid."

"Ron? Really?" Hagrid sounded concerned, but his eyes wandered away from them, darting around the grounds.

And Harry knew, sure as he knew that Ron wasn't there -- Hagrid knew something. He was always the most horrible liar. 

So he went right to Hagrid and grabbed his arm. "Where is he?"

"Er. Yes, well. Um. Who?"

Harry shook the great arm earnestly. "Come on, Hagrid! We're worried to death about him!" 

"Well. I can't be sayin' nothin' abou that. Sworn ter secrecy, I was. And now I've got ter be off ter tend the grounds in front o' the school. I expect I'll be there a good two hours at the least. So if anyone was ter find out anything, it wouldn' be from my mouth. Even if that thing they might want was in my own little 'ouse."

Ron was at Hagrid's?

Harry grinned and let him go. "Thanks, Hagrid."

"Don' know what yer thankin' me for, Harry. I didn't tell yeh anything." Hagrid winked at him and Hermione, then kept lumbering on his way towards the school.

"Come on!" Harry started off fast for Hagrid's place. 

Hermione had to run to keep up. "What could he be doing at Hagrid's?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

***

"Did you hear, Malfoy? Your pet Gryffindor's gone missing."

Draco raised his eyebrows and turned a cool gaze to Marcus Flint. 

Flint was the head of their house, practically, the captain of the Quidditch team…yet he was constantly trying to undermine Draco lately. As if he had just realized the threat Draco was to his spot in charge of Slytherin.

Stupid, Draco knew. Flint should have realized that months ago. 

His voice was cold when he answered. "What makes you think I have any interest in anyone in Gryffindor?"

Flint puffed up and glared at him. "You gonna try and act like the last few weeks just didn't happen? Everyone saw you two getting all cozy. You and the little Weasel. We all know about it. And now he's up and got himself lost or something, and Potter's asking all kinds of questions."

"Really?" Draco smiled to himself. Weasley wouldn't go so far as to leave school, would he? 

It would just figure. 

Still, depriving Potter of his best friend altogether wouldn't be a bad ending to his little joke. 

His hand went inside his robe, and he absently fingered the cool marble figure he had stashed in his pocket. "Tell me, Flint, does it bother you that Potter is upset about something? Or did you come to congratulate me."

In front of Draco, slouched in their usual spots, Crabbe and Goyle snickered. 

Draco paid them no attention. Not like they had the first clue what was going on.

Flint just folded his arms and stared down at Draco. "Are you saying you're what caused Weasley to go missing?"

Draco smiled with pure malice. "I'm saying if other people don't watch themselves, the same might happen to them."

Flint glared right back at him before turning on his heel and marching away.

Draco turned a grin to Crabbe and Goyle.

They grinned back, heads as empty as ever. 

Draco held onto the figurine in his robe so tightly the carved edges bit into his skin.

***

Ron didn't look too surprised to see them. "Hullo, Harry. Hermione."

Hermione breathed in quietly beside Harry. 

He didn't say anything right off.

Ron looked terrible, but…but it was odd. He looked the same as when Harry had last seen him at practice the day before, but different. A little pale, maybe, and there were circles under his eyes. But…something about him told Harry that something was wrong.

He was slouched there in Hagrid's massive chair, and his voice had been dull. And his face was odd. 

Harry moved in to him slowly. "Hullo, Ron. Sort of scared us today."

"Sorry."

Hermione looked back and forth between them, her brow creased. 

"You…uh." Harry glanced back at her, frowning.

She shrugged and nodded back at Ron.

"Um. You want to come back to the dorm and…do some homework?" 

Behind him, Hermione sighed as if he was completely stupid.

Harry just grimaced back at her. If she was so smart, she could talk to this weird version of their friend.

But she didn't even try.

Ron looked from her to him, then shook his head and gazed off at the walls. "Maybe after tomorrow."

"Ron. What's going on? Are you alright?"

He didn't answer.

***

"Hagrid!"

Hagrid looked up from his work. He wiped some dirt off his face and sat back on his haunches. Even down on the ground he was as tall as they were standing up. "Still up ter yer mischief, you two?"

"What's wrong with Ron?" Hermione demanded without bothering to answer.

Hagrid frowned. "I don't right know. Found 'im last night, cold and shiverin' down by the trees there," he nodded towards the back of the school. "He didn' say much all night. Wouldn' eat when I tried ter feed him. And I don't think he got no sleep." His tone was disapproving and worried at the same time. "He's acting downright strange if yeh ask me."

Harry recognized the tone -- Hagrid tended to get very paternal very fast to any creature or person or anything else he took in, no matter how short a time he had them. He was already tutting at Ron's behavior as if Ron was a wayward son. 

"Still, the strangest thing." Hagrid leaned in and lowered his voice, though there wasn't a single other person in sight. "I went to Professor Dumbledore last night, to tell 'im Ron was there. And 'e didn't act surprised at all. Just told me to take good care of 'im. Which I'll try ter do, you know that. But if 'e isn' gonna eat and 'e isn' gonna say what's eatin' 'im, then there isn' much I can do." He sighed a great gust of air. 

Harry glowered.

***

He wasn't sure if it was the humiliation of actually facing Draco Malfoy again, or the humiliation of having to face anyone else, that kept him there in Hagrid's little house.

His thoughts were very confused, and he'd never been the best at thinking things through to begin with. 

He could tell he was humiliated. He could feel that on his skin, could feel himself flushing red every time he thought about Draco. He knew he wanted nothing more than to sit there for the rest of his life and just hide.

But why? What was so bad, really? Draco already said he wasn't going to tell anyone else about them, about what he thought about Ron. He couldn't – disgusted though he was, he was still part of those kisses, and he would never want his own Slytherin friends to find that out. 

So…if he got up and went right back into that school what would be different? Nothing. He had weathered over a year of Draco's hatred and hostility, and he could weather more. 

Harry was back in that school. Hermione, his brothers, all his friends. And none of them knew any different. 

Still. He sat there.

Maybe a part of him thought Draco was right. Maybe there really was nothing to him, nothing but other people's shadows coming together and creating a solid form. Maybe if he went back, if he stayed with his friends…maybe they would figure that out.

Maybe Harry would figure it out. 

That thought hurt him, so he knew that had to be part of it. 

He was just confused. He wasn't sure at all how he should act now. He had been going on instinct with Draco, and now he knew his instincts led him wrong. He couldn't trust himself.

He wished he was a little bit smarter. A little bit better at seeing what everyone else obviously saw. 

He was afraid that Draco was right. He was afraid he really was in love a little. 

And if he was…what did that mean? Anything? 

He just wanted to know what to do.

***

"What did you do to him?"

Draco turned slowly, his usual smirk firmly in place. "Well. Potter. Granger. Imagine my delight." His voice was a lazy drawl. 

Harry marched straight up to him and shoved him back furiously. "What did you do?" 

Crabbe and Goyle were there in a snap. They jumped in front of Malfoy and practically growled.

"Get back," Malfoy's voice barked at his self-appointed bodyguards.

They obeyed, glaring at Harry.

Malfoy picked himself up off the wall he hit and glanced down at himself, as if Harry's touch had dirtied him. "I don't know what you mean, Potter."

"You know exactly what I mean. What did you do to Ron?"

Malfoy's eyes glinted with amusement. "Weasley? Then he didn't go running away from school? That's the story I heard."

"He isn't going anywhere." Harry's eyes shot back at Hermione, though, in a flash of worry. Was Ron thinking of leaving? Was that why he was with Hagrid?

Hermione met his eyes and nodded slightly, turning and speeding off down the corridor.

"Well, well. Looks like it's just us now, Potter."

Harry's hands knotted into fists. "Just you and me, and your babysitters."

Malfoy's eyes flashed fire. "Go."

Crabbe and Goyle glanced at him.

He didn't even look at them, just said it again. "Go."

They shot last threatening looks at Harry before obeying, heading slowly and reluctantly down the corridor after Hermione. 

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest smugly. "Well?"

"Start talking, Malfoy. What happened?"

"Only what you've been wanting to happen, Potter."

"What?"

Malfoy smirked. "You heard me. You've been waiting for this since you first caught your Weasel and I making nice with each other. He's yours now, Potter. All yours again. You should be thanking me."

Harry was seething. His vision was almost clouded, he was so angry. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Draco suddenly stuck a hand into his robe and started pulling it out slowly.

"Oh no you don't." Harry jumped at him and grabbed his arm, twisting it hard and slamming it into the wall.

There was a crunch, and Malfoy shoved him back with a sharp cry. "Get off!"

Instead of his wand, he'd been holding…a statue? A little white statue that seemed to have cracked in two when Harry hit it into the wall.

Draco looked at the half in his hand, then ignored Harry completely, dropping to his knees to find the other half. 

Harry stared down at him, baffled. 

Malfoy found the other piece in a few moments and stood up, grasping them both. He turned his eyes back to Harry.

Harry was shocked to see that under the red-hot anger Malfoy shot at him, his eyes were bright with moisture. "You didn't have to do that!"

Harry remembered his own anger and glared. "Serves you right."

"No! This is mine! You didn't have to break it." Malfoy awkwardly fitted the two pieces together, his breathing stuttered. 

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed his wand. Aiming it, he barked out a spell Hermione had taught him and Ron both when Ron's trunk broke for the third time in a month. "Reparo!" 

His wand flashed a small light to the pieces Draco held, and they knit to each other again, good as new. 

Draco looked down at it for a long moment.

Harry frowned at the fixed thing. It looked like a chess piece. Like one of Ron's, but newer. He tucked his wand back into his robe. "Are you done crying now, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes shot up, furious. "Go to hell, Potter!" He took off fast, still clutching his chess piece tight in his hand. 

Harry watched him go. Whatever satisfaction he should have felt from that didn't come.

***

"I don't know, Harry. He's being even more difficult than normal." Hermione just shook her head and headed to the girls' dorms. "Talk to him tomorrow. He'll probably tell you more than he told me."

Harry wasn't about to wait until tomorrow, though.

The grounds outside were cool and windy, wet with a light rain that had come and gone earlier that day. Harry moved carefully away from the school and towards Hagrid's little one-room house behind the grounds of the school.

The lights were on bright, and Harry could clearly hear Hagrid's powerful voice even as he spoke in what was probably supposed to be a soft, comforting tone. "Right then, Ron. Just fer you. I don't usually make these, see, but with a guest and all I thought somethin' special was in order."

Harry glanced through the window as he past, and saw Hagrid offering some sort of platter of food to Ron.

Ron sat there, looking exactly the same as when Harry saw him earlier that day. If anything he looked even paler. 

Hagrid offered the platter hopefully. "You'll try jus' one? Fer me?"

Ron didn't even look at the plate. 

Hagrid sighed.

Harry frowned and went to the door, knocking loudly. 

"What…oh." Hagrid opened the door and smiled at Harry half-heartedly. "Treacle tart?"

"No thanks." Harry looked right past him to where Ron sat. 

Hagrid understood at once. "Right. I'm goin' outside to check on…er, the things outside." He set the platter of tarts down and ducked down close to Harry as he passed him to leave. "Do somethin', eh? The lad's startin' ter get me worried."

Harry nodded and shut the door after Hagrid. "Hey, Ron."

Ron glanced over. "Harry."

"Are you leaving?" All of Harry's pre-thought-out opening lines vanished, and that one came out before he could stop it.

But whatever reaction he was hoping for from Ron, preferably a laugh and a don't-be-stupid or something of that sort, didn't come. Ron just frowned. "I don't know."

Harry went to him. Hagrid's chair as big enough that he could climb up on it and sit right there facing Ron. "But why? Why would you go?"

Ron just shrugged. "You were right. You know that? The whole time. I should have guessed, but…"

Harry frowned. Draco. He knew it. "I'm sorry."

Ron's eyes flashed to him. They were still strangely dull and flat. "Why sorry? Because I don't know any better yet? I still think there's something I could get right that even you get wrong?"

Harry looked at him carefully, almost willing his friend to come back and fill up the blank spots that were suddenly all over him. "Ron. You won't leave. What would you do?"

"What will I do if I stay?" Ron breathed out heavily, his eyes on Harry but not quite meeting his gaze. "Another five years of hanging around, watching other people do better than me? Letting mum and dad down because I won't be anything like prefect Percy?"

"Where is this coming from? You don't want to be like Percy, Ron." And good thing, too. Percy was so busy being prefect and trying to become head boy that he hardly acted like a decent fun-loving Weasley at all. 

"I do," Ron replied bitterly.

"You don't. I know you."

"I want to be…to be something, Harry. Anything at all. But it's not going to be any different than last year. I'm just going to be the Weasley that doesn't live up to expectations, and nothing else. Your friend, I guess."

Harry blinked at that, surprised. "You don't want to be my friend?"

"Oh, Harry, please. But it isn't all I want to be. Why stay here and suffer for another five years if that's all I ever am?"

Harry shook his head. "Why would you think that? Honestly, Ron, this isn't like you at all."

"Maybe I always thought it, Harry. But maybe I didn't realize I thought it, because in my head I thought I'd be important and…and spe…" He swallowed and looked away. "I thought I'd be different. But I'm not. I'm just cheap and second-hand."

"You are not!" Harry was hit by a burst of anger. "Listen to me, Ron. I don't know what Malfoy said to you to make you like this, but it's ridiculous. You're not second-hand or any of that other stuff. You're my best friend!"

Ron blinked wide eyes back to Harry. That strange look was back. "Harry. I think he was right. I think I might have been a little in love with him."

Harry drew back, stunned. "With…with Malfoy?"

Ron nodded. "Disgusting, huh?"

"Well…yes! Ron, I didn't…I never thought…" He shook his head, baffled. Draco Malfoy, of all people. 

Ron's pale skin tinged with red. He dropped his eyes and nodded a little, almost to himself. "He's going to be waiting in there, watching. Laughing. For another five years. I can't handle that, Harry."

"He…he knows?"

Ron nodded with a grim little smile. "You see? If there was something that made it worth facing him every day, then…"

Harry frowned. "Am I worth it?" he asked quietly.

Ron looked at him, then looked away. He didn't answer.

"I guess…I guess you have to decide on your own." Harry swallowed down all the other things he wanted to say. He slid off the chair onto the floor and went slowly to the door.

He felt defeated. If this had been Draco's plan all along, than it had worked. And there really wasn't much Harry could do about it. No threats or spells or anything would change what Draco had done.

He turned back at the door and his eyes went to Ron, so small and sad-looking in that huge chair. "Ron?"

Ron blinked wet eyes at him.

Harry met his eyes steadily, though his voice wavered a bit. "You know when I first got here I didn't know anything about…anything. I didn't know I was famous or anything like that." 

Ron just looked at him.

Harry swallowed. "If we were different…if you were the Boy Who Lived and I was just Harry Potter the nobody, and all I had to look forward to was being your friend…I wouldn't think of going anywhere."

Ron bit his lip and turned away.

Harry shut the door behind him and started his slow way back to the school.

He should never have sat back and let Draco get his claws into Ron. 

***

Ron blinked out at the empty house after Harry left. His vision was cloudy, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. 

Harry thought he was disgusting.

But Harry wanted him to stay.

It didn't make any sense to Ron. When Harry had agreed with him, with Draco, that Ron was disgusting for what he felt, Ron had expected he would just shrivel and die on the spot. 

But things were never that easy for him. Instead, Harry had told him to stay anyway.

Ron didn't know why. Couldn't even imagine why Harry would still want him around. He still had Hermione. And if he wanted some red-haired kid to be friends with, Draco was right -- there were more than enough Weasleys there to choose from. 

The door opened and Hagrid came in with his usual bustle, bringing Fang in behind him, murmuring to the dog, and trying not to stare at Ron which of course meant he stared very hard for a second at a time before turning his eyes away.

Ron spoke quietly after a minute of Hagrid's low mutters. "Does everyone know where I am?"

Hagrid turned to him. "Er. Well. 'arry, obviously. 'ermione. And, er, I might've said somethin' ter, uh, ter Professor Dumbledore." 

Ron just nodded. "I wonder why they let me stay."

"Well." Hagrid turned his attention back to his work, straightening things here and there, setting out some food for Fang, who was already fast asleep. "Not my place ter ask. Professor Dumbledore knows what 'e's doing well enough. I guess 'e figures yeh ought ter be 'ere. I don't know nothing about what's going on, but it's obvious yer not fit ter be in class right now."

Ron smiled thinly. 

"Now." Hagrid turned to him. "Yer aren't talking to me about things, and from 'ow 'arry looked when 'e left yeh aren't talking to 'im. But yeh sure look like yeh been in the middle of things, and I guess yeh need time ter get over it."

"It's nothing like that," Ron answered lowly. "I'm not Harry. Not like anyone wants to kill me or anything."

"Well now. I don't think tryin' ter kill someone's the only way ter hurt 'em. In fact I believe Professor Dumbledore 'imself once told me that some of the most important battles a wizard 'as ter face 'ave nothing ter do with life or death or even bein' a wizard."

Ron looked his way. "Do you think so?"

"Sure I do. Why do yeh think they do things the way they do at Hogwarts? Takin' yeh away from yer families for the whole year, puttin' yeh alone with all the other students, puttin' people like that Draco Malfoy in with people like Harry."

Ron only flinched a little at Draco's name. "Why?"

Hagrid shrugged. "So yeh can learn things they can't teach in no class. Learn how ter fight them battles that don't have anything t'do with magic or death or anythin'."

Ron thought about that. "It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"Nothin' does if yeh think about it hard enough. But if yer the type ter just give up and go home, well then, yer don't need to be here. Least that's what I figure."

"Maybe I don't." 

Hagrid straightened up, surprised. "Oh! Well, I wasn't talkin' about yer in particular, Ron. Course not. I figure you'll see it through no matter what happens."

Ron blinked. "You do?"

"Sure I do. I've got eyes, haven't I? Besides, if yeh left there'd be a lot o' folks worse off."

Ron smiled sadly. "Harry. I'm not so sure."

Hagrid laughed. "Well I am if yer not. He needs yeh, Ron. You two are about as close as I've seen. And yeh know, I don' think Harry's troubles are over. Not by a lot." His eyes narrowed sadly. "Poor boy's got no idea. He needs someone like yeh."

"He's got Hermione."

"Yes, and she's a good friend as well. But she's got 'er books and 'er learnin', and she has a hard enough time choosin' what's most important ter her now."

Ron understood. "She has her books, yes. And I've got nothing. Nothing but to follow him around and…"

Hagrid's brow furrowed darkly. "Now that's it, Ron. I wanna know who's been talking ter yeh, putting thoughts like that into yer 'ead."

"You think I'm wrong?"

"I know yer are. Shouldn't be talking down on yourself because yer think friendship is more important than books. That doesn't make much sense ter me. Now, if yer asked me, I'd say it's Hermione that's gonna need a little straightening before her time here's up. Never pays ter put more stock in books than what's going on around yer." 

"At least she has something of her own."

Hagrid laughed. "Well, if you'd call it that. Yer think you've got nothing like that, Ron?"

Ron shrugged.

Hagrid settled down heavily into the only other chair that wasn't cluttered by things. "I seem ter remember a certain chess game last year gettin' talked about by all the professors."

Ron sighed. "I suppose it was the greatest thing I'll ever do."

"And if it is, no shame in that. Few people do any greater."

Ron looked at him in surprise. 

"Yer the one that made the choice. Didn' know what would happen, neither. Could have been killed. Should have, really. But yeh made that choice, and yeh did it to save… probably the whole world, if yeh think about it. More important right then, Harry and Hermione and the school. You've got yer friendship, yeah, but if that's not enough than you've got more courage and loyalty than most any other student I've ever seen pass through this school."

Ron blinked and one of those tears he'd been holding back dropped, and he wiped at it distractedly. "You really believe that?"

"Don't matter what I believe," Hagrid retorted gruffly. "It's the truth. Now bein' brave and loyal to yer friends may not get yeh very far in school or anythin' -- may not make yeh the head boy or put yeh on the Quidditch team. But school isn't life, as yeh must know. There's a lot goes on outside that castle over there. And out there's the only place that matters, really." Hagrid flushed suddenly under his beard. "Listen to me. Goin' on like this when yeh need ter be gettin' some sleep."

Ron frowned at that, remembering the long hours of the sleepless night before.

"Well, let's get yeh settled down, and maybe tomorrow yeh can run back over ter the school and talk ter Dumbledore yourself, if you've got questions."

But Ron wasn't sure he did have any. Not anymore.


	9. Nine

"Minerva? May I see you for a moment?"

Professor McGonagall dutifully stepped into the headmaster's office as he held the door for her. "Albus. You look a little better today."

"I am, dear. I am. I'm wondering if you might let Harry out of your class for the day."

She raised her eyebrows archly. "I might. Is there a reason why I should? Or more of this nonsense with the Weasley boy?"

Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses, his eyes twinkling.

She sighed. "I'll never understand you, Albus."

"You should if you want to take over for me someday."

She frowned even more sternly. 

He chuckled. "You have to understand that for someone like Harry, simply surviving to the end of school is not enough. He needs to thrive if he's going to make it through all the troubles he'll be going through. He needs support. And, as unlikely as it might seem, I think Ron Weasley is the best possible support he could have. He's proven himself as loyal and brave, and, more to the point, the lads are friends."

"I know. You've said this before when you first brought up this situation."

Dumbledore nodded. "It's more important than you realize. It's important for Ron to have his loyalties cemented. I've allowed Draco Malfoy to insert his influence, and it had the results I'd predicted. Now Ron's future, and perhaps Harry's as well, completely depends on what he decides to do in these next few days."

"And I suppose you'd like Harry to have time to go and influence that decision."

"For Harry's sake, I'd like to give him the chance."

McGonagall smiled finally and nodded. "I'll excuse him for today. I will tell you, though, that it's a good thing these boys have Miss Granger. They'll need her help to make up all the lessons they're missing through all this."

Dumbledore smiled back with his usual cheer. "It's probably the least of their worries right now."

***

McGonagall waited until the others had filed into the classroom before holding a hand out to stop Harry.

She had to admit looking at him that Dumbledore seemed right. If there was nothing but Weasley's absence to bother him, he was bothered rather a lot. He looked like he was missing sleep, and even being pulled aside by McGonagall didn't bring much reaction.

She smiled at him affectionately. "Harry. You are dismissed from class today. Please return to your dormitory."

Harry looked up at her with his serious eyes. "What's going on?"

"You're not in trouble. But I think you may have a visitor."

Harry frowned but nodded. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

It was a sign of how distressed he was that he asked no more questions than that. 

She watched him go and shook her head with a sigh. If Dumbledore was right about those two boys, then she prayed Ron Weasley make the right decision. 

***

Ron was glad to sneak back in when everyone was in class. He didn't spot a single student from the secret entrance Fred and George had shown them last year to the picture guarding Gryffindor's dorms.

The Fat Lady in the picture did give a little smile of recognition, though, as she asked for the password.

The dorms were quiet, and Ron went in and sat on his bed. 

Nothing changed. He wasn't sure why he felt like things would be different, but they weren't. 

So, he was back there. In time to go to lunch, too. Which would probably be the most brave thing he would ever do, even considering chess games and all.

He heard footsteps echo through the quiet of the empty dorm, and he looked to the door to see Harry coming in.

He stood up, surprised. 

Harry saw him and a smile crept up instantly. "Ron! You…" The smile faded. "Oh. Are you here to…I mean, your things…?"

Ron shook his head. "I'm not going. It was a stupid idea, anyway."

The smile returned. "I…oh."

And Harry seemed so sincerely relieved that Ron smiled faintly. "Well. Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing good." Harry went over and sat down beside him, grinning happily. "Things are boring without you here, you know that?"

Ron laughed softly. "I'd say it was probably the other way around. How did you get out of McGonagall's class?"

"She told me to go. Strangest thing. She said I'd have a visitor."

"Did she mean me?"

"I guess so." Harry thought about that. "Strange that she'd do that. I wonder if you're going to hear even a word from the teachers about missing the last couple of days."

"I don't think so. Hagrid said Dumbledore knew where I was the whole time." Ron shrugged. "I think he's known about everything. Couldn't tell you what he thinks about it all, though."

Harry hesitated, then threw caution to the wind. Seeing Ron there and almost smiling and back where he belonged made something in his chest sort of skip, and he threw his arms around his friend and hugged him tight. "I'm glad you're back," he said sincerely.

Ron hugged him back after a frozen moment. "I think I am too. I'll let you know after lunch today."

Harry pulled back at that, and his tender affections faded into grimness instantly. "Whatever happens, Ron, we're there with you. Whatever that…whatever Malfoy pulls…"

Ron grimaced. "I'm trying to expect everything. I know he'll do something I can't even think of, though. I hope…I mean…I know…" He sighed. "I know you think it's…he really got to me, Harry. For a while there I really genuinely thought…" Frustrated, he shook his head. "I guess it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Just…we'll deal with it, Ron. Whatever you need, I'm here for. All you have to do is make sure Malfoy doesn't see what he's done to you."

Ron shook his head, and the set of his mouth was grim. "No, Harry. What I have to do is show Draco exactly what he's done to me."

He opened a drawer beside his bed then, and pulled out a hunk of dark cloth frayed around the edges.

His old robe. Harry recognized it easily.

Ron held it out, studying it, and something was glimmering in his eyes.

Harry frowned. There was obviously some idea going through Ron's head. But Harry didn't ask -- this sort of problem was too personal, he thought, to talk about so fast. He wasn't entirely certain of his own feelings about it, honestly. About Ron admitting he had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.

He knew he would be there, though. And if he could help Ron, he would without any hesitation at all.

***

Draco sneered the minute he caught sight of red hair moving through the students to the Gryffindor table. 

Ron was back. 

He sat there and ignored his friends, who hadn't noticed yet, and watched Ron. 

He was being led by Potter, who was smiling nervously and watchfully around them. And once they got to the table Gryffindors started popping out of their seats to welcome him back. 

Disgusting.

Draco saw Ron smile, but he knew. He could read Ron's expressions by then. Become quite good at it, actually. And he could tell that Ron wasn't enjoying the return. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and his smile was forced.

Oh, yes. He was hurting. 

Draco smiled to himself. He debated saying something to draw his table's attention to the Weasel, but he thought maybe he'd save it for when the meal was started and everyone was seated and stuffing their mouths full of food.

***

Ron sat down beside the grinning faces of Hermione and Ginny. Further down the table, Fred and George shot him smiles with questions underneath. They'd be bothering him for the story later, he could tell. And further down than them, Percy nodded at him, eyebrows raised. 

At least Ginny wasn't pestering him yet. She was beaming and silent, shooting looks at Hermione over his shoulder.

Harry sat across from him, smiling but tense. Ready for some kind of fight.

Ron was a little too tired to be tensed up for battle. Besides, he knew it was coming, and it wouldn't be in some way he could stop with a fist. Draco was too clever for that. 

He swallowed and resisted the urge to turn and look at Slytherin's table.

Dumbeldore silenced them all with his usual short little speech, and the meal began.

Ron had been for almost two days in Hagrid's house, where the cooking was interesting but never very good. Still, though he hadn't had a bite that whole time, he just wasn't very hungry. His stomach sort of flipped around at the sight of all the food.

To avoid any more stares than he was already getting he filled up his plate. He then set to work chopping and cutting and moving around and hopefully making them think he was actually eating some of it. 

From Harry's frown it was clear he saw right through Ron, but at least Harry wouldn't say anything right there about it.

"So where 'ave you been, Ron?" Seamus Finnegan started the talks loudly from a few seats down from Ron.

All eyes went to Ron in curiosity.

Ron just shrugged, looking down at his plate. "Had some things to do."

"Things? What things?" Fred spoke up loudly. 

Ron shot him a look. "Things." 

Fred and George instantly exchanged glances, and George said something quietly. 

Fred left Ron alone after that, but Ron dreaded the interrogation he knew he'd be getting later.

Conversations slowly and reluctantly started around him as the others at the table realized he wasn't going to say any more than that.

Harry stayed quiet himself, watchful, eating mechanically as he darted eyes again and again to Slytherin's table behind Ron. 

Ron didn't look back. 

***

Draco stood up.

The lunch was just about over. Some students had already left. And he wanted to make sure Ron didn't get away without even a hello.

That would be rude.

So he stood, and nodded for Crabbe and Goyle to follow. "You two don't say a word. We're going to have a little fun."

They nodded, eyes already eager.

"Just laugh when I do," Draco instructed. He smiled to himself. "And remember how I told you to lay off bothering Weasley?"

Another matching nod from both heads.

Draco smirked. "Forget I ever said it."

They started towards Gryffindor's table, and Draco debated all the while. Should he say something? Something that would let everyone know hat he thought of him? Or make it more personal? Something between the two of them.

Yeah. That was more like it.

Start subtly. 

So when he got to the table he moved to the far side of it, so that Ron would have no choice but to see him. He gestured for Crabbe and Goyle to go on the other side, behind Ron.

Potter was on the alert, glaring at him fiercely as if he could stop them in their tracks with his mind. 

Draco transformed his expression as he approached. He widened his eyes and dropped the sneer, painting a hopeful little smile in its place. He tried to look apologetic and sad as he smiled. 

He probably pulled it of, too. He'd know in a minute.

Ron looked up finally when he caught sight of movement. He saw Draco there.

Draco bit at his lip, smiling apologetically.

Ron smiled back automatically, a dim light appearing in his dull eyes.

Draco burst into harsh laughter, and on the other side off the table Crabbe and Goyle echoed it raucously. 

Ron's eyes dropped instantly, and Draco couldn't see his face.

As they past, Crabbe pushed at Ron's head and Goyle bumped him with his knee, making his face snap up.

Draco saw the flash of pain, the miserable look in his eyes. 

He kept laughing, satisfied, and continued out the door. 

***

Harry shot out of his chair, furious, but hesitated. He looked back at Ron, whose face was bowed enough to be hidden, and he sat down again slowly. "Hey. Want to go?"

Ron didn't answer for a minute. When he looked up, his expression was clear and almost blank. His lips were pressed tight together. He nodded.

Harry felt eyes on his back as he and Ron left the dining room.

***

Fred and George were angry. 

Harry was sitting by himself in the common room when they came in. He had left Ron upstairs, sitting on his bed and lost somewhere in his own thoughts. 

"What is going on, Harry?" The twins sat on either side of him, looking ready for a fight. "What was that about at lunch today?"

Harry sighed, glancing back towards the stairs that led to the dorms. "I can't really say anything."

Fred stood up instantly and started pacing around.

George stayed right where he was. "Come off it, Harry. He's our brother. He isn't telling us why he went missing for a couple of days, and now he's acting all different. And Draco Malfoy's coming around to laugh at him for no reason at all. What is going on?"

"I can't tell you," Harry said again. "I'm sorry, but it's his secret."

"It's about Malfoy, though, isn't it? Everything. Ever since he started making nice to that little worm we knew something bad was going to happen."

Harry grimaced. Everyone knew. Everyone but Ron. "I'll talk to him. Maybe I can get him to tell you."

Fred blew out an explosive breath, angry. "Fine. Talk to him. We're his brothers, you know? We can mess around with him all we like, but we love him. Someone else starts bothering him and we'll put a stop to it fast. Make sure he knows that, huh?"

Harry nodded. 

"And…" He stopped suddenly and went back to the seat beside Harry, throwing himself down. "Whether he tells us or not, if Malfoy comes near him again we're gonna stop him."

"No." 

They all turned in surprise.

Ron stood there on the stairs, watching them all with dark eyes. He came down the rest of the way slowly. "Don't stop him."

George sat up. "Why not? He's a slimy little git, Ron. Look what he's done to you."

Harry couldn't help but nod agreement. After the last three days Ron was starting to actually look different. He was thin enough as it was, and after not eating his clothes were getting even looser on him. The skin under his eyes was dark and puffy. He looked horrid, really. 

But there was a gleam in his eyes as he approached where they all sat. "He's won," Ron said quietly. "Doesn't matter what happened, George. He did what he set out to do. But he thinks it's over now, and it isn't."

The twins sat up in interest. 

Harry studied Ron closely as he spoke.

Ron smiled, and though it was still sad and strange-looking, it was a smile. "I'm not going to let him get away that easy." His eyes went to his brothers. "And maybe you two can help."

They grinned matching grins.

***

Draco stopped in his tracks when he heard voices right around the corner from the entrance into Slytherin's dormitories.

"--when the little rat comes back."

"Still. Not too smart meeting him right here where all his friends hang out."

"Who cares? You want to give up and go back and let him terrorize our brother some more?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I?"

"And Malfoy should be here any minute."

Draco smiled to himself. The Weasley twins. Had to be. That pompous ass Percy wouldn't dare mess with him.

He stood for a moment, indecisive. He wasn't about to run from those two ridiculous clowns. 

They started talking again suddenly. "What is it you figure Malfoy did?"

"I can't figure it out. Never seen Ron acting like this."

"He should have listened when we warned him."

Draco grinned. They had warned him as well? Ron must have been getting it from all sides.

"I just don't know why he would want to be friends with that evil little git."

"He's clueless. You know that. Probably thought there was something human in Malfoy's greasy head. You can't treat people like Malfoy like human beings. There's nothing good in him at all."

"Stupid bugger should have appreciated Ron while he had him. Probably the last time anyone will ever be nice to him because they want to."

"Rather than because they're scared of him."

Draco's mouth twisted in a sneer. Nice. When had he ever needed anyone to be nice to him?

He turned suddenly. He wasn't running from them, because that was ridiculous. But he had no desire to stay there and hear more. 

He left quickly, and their voices faded from his ears.

***

When he heard the soft footsteps, Fred turned to George with his eyebrows raised. "Well. Little creep ran off."

George grinned. "Wonder if that did any good."

"Don't know. I don't know what Ron means to accomplish with this, anyway."

"He's acting odd about it, that's for sure."

They exchanged shrugs and glanced around the corner. There was no sign of anyone, so they set out back for their own dorms.

***

Harry sat down slowly, unsure. "Ron?"

Ron looked at him, blinking his eyes like he as clearing a fog. "Hi, Harry."

"Can I…can we talk?"

"Sure." Ron moved over to give Harry a little more room on his narrow bed. "Is something wrong?"

Harry smiled at that. "I think that's what I'm supposed to be asking you."

Ron made a face. "Well .We all know what's wrong with me already, don't we?"

"Not…not really." Harry studied him, serious. "I just…what you said at Hagrid's."

Ron held his breath, tensing.

Harry hesitated. "Do you really think you're in love with him?"

Ron looked away from him, pensive. "I think I was. For a little while. I don't know. He just…I feel so stupid even talking about it. Everything he did that made me feel…it was all a big joke anyway. Everything he said." He sighed. "He made me feel different, you know? He said things…" He blinked back a growing brightness in his eyes.

Harry almost wished he would stop fighting it so hard. Even though they had never actually cried in front of each other, they were still best friends. Ron meant everything to him, and that wouldn't change if he cried a little bit. 

Ron tilted his head back, breathing in slowly and expelling a sigh. 

Harry watched him. "You know, Ron."

Ron looked back at him.

"Those things he said…I'm not sure what all they were. You told me some of it. But everything he said wasn't a lie. You should know that. It's the truth, even if he may not believe it is."

Ron smiled faintly. "Thanks."

Harry sat up, reaching out and tugging Ron's robe absently. "I mean it. When he said you were special, he was right. It doesn't matter if he said it as a joke. He was telling the truth."

"Harry, you don't have to--"

"I know I don't have to." Harry shifted on the bed, sitting right beside Ron. He looked out at the same blank wall Ron had been staring at. "I guess I'm not the best person to tell you this stuff. It's strange to me. I don't know what to say, because it isn't like anyone ever said it to me. I mean, they did once I got to Hogwarts and found out who I really was. They tell me all the time now how special I am. But I'm still the same person I always was. I'm the same as I was when the Dursleys had me. The only thing that's different is the people."

Ron looked over at him. He reached out and fingered Harry's robe hesitantly. 

Harry leaned his head back against the wall, thinking. "Your family, Ron, they're different then I ever thought a family could be. I knew all families weren't like the Dursleys, but yours is still…they're great. I never would have thought that they would let someone slip through the cracks without making them feel like…I don't know. I just never thought you wouldn't know how great you were. Seems like they should have told you."

Ron frowned. "It's not their fault. I know they love me. It isn't as bad as all that. They just get so busy with everyone else."

"All that stuff you said that one day in the library with Hermione…about whether she thought what people said about your family was true…" Harry looked over at him. "Struck me as strange, because…because they say your family doesn't have a lot of money, and that you're all Muggle-lovers. And you all have bright red hair and freckles and…" He smiled faintly. "And all that's pretty much true, right? But it doesn't have anything to do with you. You know? You're Ron. I mean, you've got an old robe, but what has that got to do with anything?"

Ron met his eyes, solemn.

Harry shrugged. "I've got money, but it's just a bunch of coins in a vault that were left by parents I never knew. It doesn't really change who I am at all." He raised his eyebrows. "Does it?"

Ron smiled at that and shook his head. "Course not."

Harry returned the smile, satisfied. "Just…look. Malfoy's an idiot. He doesn't know you. And what he thinks about you doesn't really change who you are. If it did, all of us would be in trouble."

Ron laughed faintly. 

Harry nudged him with his arm. "There you are. Starting to look like yourself again."

Ron rolled his eyes and looked away. His ears were pink.

Harry grinned and stood suddenly. "Hey, I've got something for you."

Ron turned back. "Do you?"

Harry went to the chest at the foot of his bed and opened it. He grabbed the box there and flashed it, smiling. "Little present."

Ron's expression went pensive again. "Harry, I don't want anything."

"Do you think that matters?" Harry went back to the bed and sat across from Ron, setting the box between them.

He knew Ron would recognize the type of box. Wizard chess sets were sold in those. Ron had seen enough of them when they went through Hogsmeade together. 

Ron just frowned down at it. "Please, Harry. I don't want it. Thank you and everything, but…"

"Just open it, Weasley." Harry nudged it closer.

Ron bit his lip, looking utterly miserable again. 

Harry knew well enough what he was thinking. Probably thinking about when Malfoy gave him that new robe. That had to be the first new thing Ron had ever owned. 

Ron was going to learn fast that Harry wasn't anything like Draco, though.

Ron reached out slowly and flipped the lid on the box. 

Harry grinned.

Ron blinked, then reached in and pulled out a pawn. An old, worn out, second-hand pawn. His own, from the set he had thrown out in disgust long days ago. "This…"

Harry nodded. "I knew you didn't want to get rid of it, you moody little git. But the bag they were in sort of burned up so close to the fire in the common room, so I filched the box."

"From who?"

"Filch." Harry grinned.

Ron laughed, lifting out one of the queens. "Harry…"

Harry waited, smiling.

Ron looked up at him, clutching the queen in his hand. "Thanks."

"Anytime. What are friends for?" Harry nodded down at the box. "Want to have a game?"

Ron smiled.


	10. Ten

Stupid Ron Weasley, blood dripping down his chin. Grinning and pleased. 

His own voice, sounding angry. "I don't know how to do things if it isn't just me facing them alone."

Ron, beaten and laughing. "Better learn."

Draco rolled over onto his back, fuming. 

His own stupid brain was fighting him, keeping him from just falling asleep. 

"Because. I like you. I mean, I like you now."

Draco snapped his eyes open, tired of seeing Ron bloody Weasley in his mind. 

He refused to believe what he was starting to suspect. Him, actually miss having a miserable thing like Weasley around?

Absolutely ridiculous. 

Weasley was trash. Poor Muggle-loving trash from a disgraceful family, with Mudblood friends and Harry bloody Potter leading him around like a dog.

Pathetic. Really. 

"It's just a stupid present, is all…I wanted to give you something." There was Ron with that shy smile. And the queen. That stupid chess queen.

Draco looked over, and there it was at its usual spot by his bed. 

He really needed to throw the thing away. Break it into a hundred pieces right in front of Weasley, watch him fall apart.

He reached out and took hold of it, looking for any sort of line in the marble to show where Potter had broken it. He remembered that moment well -- he remembered his own panic at seeing the thing break. 

No. Not panic. Just anger. He could smash the thing up if he wanted to. He just wasn't about to let Potter smash it for him. That was all it was.

He set it back down carefully and sighed, rolling onto his side.

Ron again. Bloody, sincere. "I'm your friend now."

Damn it all.

***

"I see Mr. Weasley has decided to honor us with his presence today. How delightful."

There were snickers from Draco's table.

Ron just flushed. He should have known Snape would say something, even if none of the other teachers had. 

Snape walked over to him slowly. "Is it too much to hope, Weasley, that you've read up on the things you missed while you were away?"

Ron hesitated. Hermione had taken him through it, of course, but he had only really half-listened. 

"I would hope, for instance, that if I were to whip up an Elixir of Internment you would know exactly what to do to keep from being petrified."

Ron nodded weakly.

Snape practically smiled. He reached into his robe.

Ron swallowed, his heart beating faster. 

Not again. Not another demonstration that ended with him humiliating himself in front of everyone. 

"Professor Snape?"

Ron and Snape both looked over in surprise at the interruption. 

Draco sat up stiffly. "I was wondering if you could answer a couple of questions about the uses of dragon scales."

Snape raised his eyebrows. He glanced at Ron, then back at Draco, and then stood up straight. "Read the lesson again, Weasley. Alright, Malfoy, what are you having problems with?"

Ron breathed out as Snape turned his attention away, going over to Draco's table. 

He frowned a moment later -- Draco had saved him. Draco had stopped Snape humiliating him. 

He looked over at Draco once Snape had answered his question and gone back to the front of the class.

Draco ignored him, glaring out at the classroom.

Ron felt Harry's eyes and glanced at him.

Harry was frowning in suspicion.

Ron shrugged. When Harry turned back to Snape, he allowed himself to smile. 

Things were going just as he thought.

***

"Ron?" Hermione sounded impatient. "Can you at least pretend to pay attention?"

Ron blinked and turned to her, smiling slightly. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "Answer the question, or next time Snape really will poison you in front of everyone."

"Uh." Ron turned his eyes back to his textbook.

Harry watched them both. Hermione was relieved to have Ron back, which she of course demonstrated by nagging at him worse than usual. 

Harry was happy himself, but still waiting. Because Ron wasn't really back yet. Not completely. He smiled again and talked to them, but he still wasn't eating much. He still didn't laugh like he used to. 

He still watched Draco like he was haunted. 

Ron grimaced at the textbook suddenly. "My brain is fried, Hermione. I can't even read the words anymore."

She sighed loudly. "Oh, all right. I guess we've done enough. But we'd better go through it once more before we have Potions again."

Ron grinned. "Of course. Later." He stood up.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked a little too quickly. 

Ron just flashed a smile. "Ginny's sending a letter off to mum today, and she's waiting for me to write them a little something before sending Errol out. God knows he can't handle two trips."

Harry laughed. "Right. Tell them I said hi. And thank your mum for the candy at Halloween."

Ron waved his acknowledgement and left.

They fell into silence for a while after he was gone. Hermione was stuck in her book, and Harry was lost in his thoughts. 

Ron was sort of filling up his mind every second lately, and he couldn't shake it off. He felt like he had to keep an eye on him constantly, had to watch his back and make sure he didn't get hurt again. 

He was surprising himself with how possessive he suddenly felt. Ron could take care of himself, really. Especially now that all this with Malfoy had happened. Harry figured it would take a lot after Malfoy for Ron to start trusting someone he had no reason to trust. 

Still, he worried. A lot. He worried that Ron wasn't eating, and he worried that Ron sighed and tossed and turned most of the night instead of sleeping. 

He worried that despite the smiles, Ron wasn't the same person he had been. He hated to think someone like Draco Malfoy could have that big an effect on his best friend.

After long minutes of thinking about it, Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by Hermione. "You can go talk to him."

"What?" He turned to her.

She smiled. "You've been staring at that door since he left. Why not go talk to him?"

Harry shrugged, flushing a little. "He's writing a letter. Besides, we have been talking."

"I've noticed." Hermione studied him. "Harry, do you think maybe you're treating him a bit too carefully?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…well, he isn't going to start acting like Ron again if we don't start treating him like Ron, is he? You look like you're scared to say anything because you're worried he'll take it wrong and get upset."

"That's not it." Harry sighed. "Not really."

She looked dubious.

"Well, it is a little bit. You know, some of what happened with Malfoy was my fault."

"How in the world do you figure that?"

"I haven't been a good friend to him."

"You have! You've been great, Harry!"

Harry wondered. "He's a hero, really, for what he did last year. Sacrificing himself the way he did. He did that for me. And what does it say about me that I didn't try and stop him, or offer myself instead?"

"Ron said it himself, Harry. You were the one that had to keep going. It was your job to get the stone from Quirrell."

Harry frowned. "Well. Whatever it was, I still feel badly. Now here's my chance to make it up to him, and I don't really know what to do. He's the one in trouble, and I don't have anyone I can fight to make it better. Though punching Malfoy in his smug little face would make me feel better."

"Not just you," she retorted under her breath.

He smiled. "This may sound odd, but I've only just realized how much I…I'd hate it if this got the best of him. I want him to get over this, and I want to help if I can."

She returned the smile. "You're a good friend, Harry. Don't ever tell yourself you aren't."

"I wish I knew what to say to get him back, that's all. It isn't that I'm scared to say anything, I'm just busy trying to figure out what the right thing to say is. I want Ron back, Hermione."

She nodded. "I know. I do, too." She looked over again, and her eyes caught on someone behind Harry. "Oh."

Harry turned around and saw Ron there. He had a scrawled little letter clutched in his hand, and a strange look on his face.

Hermione instantly got to scolding him. "How long were you standing there eavesdropping, Ron Weasley?"

Ron glanced at her. "Not long." He looked back at Harry. "You know it isn't your job, right?"

"What isn't?"

"Fixing me." He smiled a little. "It's mine."

Harry stood up and went to him. "But I can help. I want to help."

Ron shook his head. "You do." He lowered his voice. "Honestly, Harry. You've been really great through all this. Especially now that…well, now that you know…" He shrugged, flushing.

Harry frowned. "Now that I know what?"

Ron glanced over at Hermione, and lowered his voice even more. "How I felt. About him. Now that…you know. How disgusting I am."

Harry drew back, shocked. "What? You…" He remembered the conversation suddenly. "Oh, Ron! I really have been horrible. I just never know the right thing to say."

Ron blinked. "What?"

"I never thought you were disgusting! I…never could. You're great. You're brilliant."

Ron frowned. "You said…"

"Well, I wasn't talking about you. It was just the idea of someone actually loving…him." He made a face. "Just the thought of him and…anyone." He shuddered.

Ron blinked, then laughed. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"Of course not! Especially now! I really think I completely hate him. But you! Ron, you're bloody well off your rocker if you think I could ever think of you that way. No matter who you love." He reached out and plucked at Ron's tattered robe, flushing. "Even if it is…you know. Another boy or something." He smiled, feeling suddenly a little shy and strange.

Ron looked at him for a long moment, then looked down at his hand. "Harry."

Harry dropped his hand instantly, self-conscious. "I'm gonna…finish studying." He left Ron fast and went back to the table. 

Ron approached the table slowly, his eyes on Harry. He reached them and seemed to reach some sort of decision. He dropped the letter on the table. "Give that to Ginny when she comes, okay?"

Hermione took it, looking up at him. "Where are you going?"

Ron looked determined. "I'm going to go get myself back."

***

Draco sauntered down the hall, feeling smug even though he was headed for detention. 

It had been worth it, telling Sprout exactly what he thought of her stupid enchanted tentacula vines.

He was on the warpath lately. Even Snape had snapped at him after class for speaking up and interrupting his toying with Weasley. 

He was angry at everything for some reason. 

Probably because he wasn't getting any sleep.

"Draco?"

He stopped at the quiet voice and stared in front of him.

There was the man himself. Weasley, looking all miserable and pathetic. And ashamed. 

Draco smiled for the first time all day.

Weasley looked at the ground. "Can I…can I talk to you for a minute? Please?"

Draco glanced back at his shadows. "Go on."

Crabbe and Goyle went without a word, wearing matching smirks. 

Draco turned his attention to Weasley, smirking. "Come to beg? You want me back that badly? Or did you just want to spend a few minutes alone with me?"

Ron looked up.

Draco blinked in surprise. 

Gone was the sadness and shame. On his face instead was a sort of cold determination.

And suddenly Ron strode forward, running into him and pushing him back against the wall. His hands looped into Draco's robe and held him there. "See? You're not the only one who can play tricks." His voice was low.

Draco swallowed, almost frightened for a moment. 

Then he remembered who he was, and he looked down at Ron's hands with a glare. "You might want to get your hands off me, Weasley."

"I don't think so, Malfoy. I've got a few things I want to say."

"You think anything you can say will change what happened? You're pathetic."

"No. I'm not. And I don't want to change a single thing. Because I see you for what you are now, Malfoy. You planned everything out so well, didn't you? Every little word of it, every little move." 

He leaned in suddenly. "Or did you? See, I wonder. You had your little plot in mind, but it didn't go the way you wanted it to. That's why you broke it off the way you did. Just you and me. That's not the way you wanted it. You wanted to do it loudly in front of everyone. But you couldn't."

Draco reached up to pry his hands off.

Ron held on to him like a vice, though. "You wanted to sit back and enjoy watching me miserable. You wanted to laugh at me once you humiliated me enough. You thought you'd love it." He smiled suddenly, grimly. "But you don't. You don't enjoy it at all. I'll bet you keep thinking about me. Wondering about everything. Don't you?"

Draco laughed. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm right." Ron met his eyes. "And you know it."

Draco faced him steadily for a minute, then broke his gaze and struggled to get him off. "Let go of me, Weasley."

"I think you slipped up more than you meant to. I think you enjoyed being with me. I think you stopped Snape yesterday because you feel bad. You don't like watching me suffer the way you used to. And you really think you won?"

Draco shoved at him.

He didn't even seem to feel it. He was planted right where he was. "I disgust you, do I? You lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me." He leaned in, his breath hitting Draco's mouth.

Draco leaned in despite himself, then realized what he was doing and pulled back so hard he hit his head on the wall.

Ron smiled, cold. He hadn't missed the reaction. He leaned in even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "We both know who started it, don't we? Lie to anyone you want, you have to live with the truth." 

"Weasley. I'm warning you…" Draco trailed off when he heard how weak his own voice sounded. 

Ron smiled. "I'll be done in a minute. And then you can go back to Goyle and Crabbe and your father and pretend you're as tough as you wish you were."

Draco growled and reached into his robe, grabbing for his wand.

One of Ron's hands left his robe and reached down, pulling his arm to a halt. "Not this time." 

Ron's hand brushed over the other thing Draco had taken to keeping in his pocket.

Ron's eyes widened, and his smile grew. "Well. Isn't that lucky?" His other hand left Draco's robe and reached in searching.

Draco surged up, trying to break away, but Ron had his arm tight in his grasp, and he squeezed even tighter. "Be still."

Draco glared at him, but stopped fighting.

Ron found what he was looking for and pulled out his hand. He smiled at the sight of the chess queen. "Carry this around, do you?"

Draco felt his face heat in a flush. He twisted himself fiercely out of Ron's grip. "Weasley…"

Ron held the queen. He looked to Draco. "Sorry. This is what I came for. I don't think you should have it anymore."

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it again and just glared. 

Ron turned to go, but hesitated. He looked back at Draco as if he wanted to say something.

Draco straightened his robes, glowering. "What?"

Ron shrugged, looking away. But in that second before he turned, Draco saw a flash of something in his eyes. Some emotion. 

It looked like pity.

Ron left without saying anything else. 

Draco watched him go. 

***

Harry grinned when Ron came in. "Hey."

Ron smiled back easily, moving to his bed. Something was clenched in his hand, and he set it on his table.

Harry squinted at it in surprise. He'd seen that chess piece before. "Malfoy had that."

Ron looked down at it thoughtfully. He just nodded, but a moment later seemed to realize what Harry said and turned to him. "You saw it?"

Harry nodded. "He was carrying it with him the other day. We…well. We may have got into a bit of a fight, and it broke. He looked like he was about to start sobbing over it until I did the reparo."

Ron smiled. "Did he really?"

Harry frowned up at him. "It's yours?"

Ron hesitated, then picked it up and brought it to Harry's little desk. He sat on the edge of the desk and held it out. "It's mine. It was a present. Last year. McGonagall."

Harry reached out and took the piece, looking it over.

He breathed in when he looked at it carefully and saw in his hand the miniature version of the exact same queen that had almost taken Ron from him the year before. The one Ron had put himself in front of so Harry could win the game.

Harry hated that queen when he saw her in his dreams. Visions of her were always followed by visions of Ron lying on the ground in a heap, and the feeling of helpless panic of being stuck in his spot until the game finished, of not being able to go and help. Of not knowing if his best friend was alive or dead.

"Why would she give you this?" he asked finally, handing the piece back quickly.

Ron took it and regarded it. "She didn't say, really. Just handed it to me and said 'good play, Mr. Weasley.'" He smiled a small, private little smile. "I think I understand it better now, though. The queen…it's a good piece. If you lose your queen, you know, the game is almost lost. She's strong." His eyes lost their focus, going inward. "Powerful. Can move anywhere. Do anything." He spoke softly.

Then he shook his head to clear it and smiled at Harry. "But she doesn't call all the shots. You know? She's a good piece to have, but behind her there's the king. He isn't much to play with -- his moves are too limited. He doesn't stand out or anything, really. But the game doesn't end until you beat him. And he's harder to get to than people think."

Harry tilted his head and studied his friend. "I get the feeling there's an important lesson in there that I'm missing."

Ron laughed and hefted the piece. He moved back to his bed to set it down on the table again. "No. No lesson. I'm just talking about nothing, really."

"You've never showed it to me before," Harry realized suddenly. "I never even saw it until I ran into Malfoy."

Ron shrugged. "Well. You were in hospital when she gave it to me. I guess I was embarrassed that anyone would make a big deal out of it, especially knowing that what you went through later was so much harder. And really, you deserved it more than…"

Harry's face twisted in a disapproving scowl.

Ron held up his hands in surrender. "I'm showing you now. I won't hide it anymore."

"Good." 

Ron smiled at his little chess piece. "It was a bloody good game though, wasn't it?"

Harry stood and went over to him. He clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder and looked down at the chess piece for a moment.

He hated that queen. Honestly. But he smiled when he saw the pride in Ron's eyes as he looked at it. "Best game I've ever seen," he answered, looking to Ron. He hoped his own eyes clearly showed the same amount of pride, because he felt it right then.

Ron turned to him, and his cheeks flushed pink. He grinned and reached out and brushed a finger down Harry's robe before dropping his hand. "Thanks, you know."

"For what?" 

Ron looked up at him, then blushed darkly as he leaned over and pressed his lips to Harry's cheek. "Being here." He grinned at the ground shyly, completely red.

Harry's hand rose to his cheek unconsciously and brushed over that spot. He blinked at Ron with a feeling like wonder boiling up inside him.

Ron turned away, still grinning. "We should go visit Hagrid. I should probably thank him as well."

"Hagrid? Oh, for letting you stay with him."

"That, too." Ron reached for his sweater. 

When he straightened up again Harry was there. His heart was beating loudly, but he found courage from somewhere to return the shy kiss, his lips brushing the soft skin of Ron's cheek. "Let me know," he said in a low voice that was almost a whisper but still urgent. "When you're ready, let me know."

Ron looked at him in surprise, and if his grin earlier had been big it was nothing compared to the one that split his face in two a moment later. His eyes lit up, and suddenly every bit of that strange sadness that had coated him for days was gone like it had never been there. "I will."

Harry turned away to get his own sweater, feeling heat in his face. Heat everywhere.

Maybe after visiting Hagrid they should venture down into the depths of Slytherin's dormitory. Harry still hated Draco Malfoy for everything he had done, but he had the feeling that before too long he'd want to thank him as well.

End


End file.
